


The Foul Team

by freudwithwings



Series: The Foul Team [2]
Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: OCs Abound, Spoilers for The Last Guardian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-16
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:25:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 150,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freudwithwings/pseuds/freudwithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hired by the LEP as a consultant, Artemis finds himself at the centre of a growing crisis. He was right: human children ARE getting smarter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Single Gold Coin

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This entire fic takes place following the events of The Last Guardian, and so carries suitable spoiler warnings!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 1.01: An in-and-out surveillance job becomes something much bigger when it turns out Becquerel Jones knows about the People. In response, the LEP takes a massive risk.

"Why am I inclined to doubt that this is going to be as simple as you say?"

"Bit late for second thoughts now, Fowl. You went over the data with me, remember? We need a human face on the ground. No other way to go about this - you saw the files. Now shut up, ring the doorbell, and - for Frond's sake - slouch a little bit more. You're in America, after all."

"Holly, can you remind the centaur that this is not the first time I've gone undercover?"

The question was met with a snort on the other end of the line. "Arty, I'm only here in case the universe remembers how much bad karma you've got. Never thought I'd say this, but Foaly's right - shut up and ring the doorbell."

"Why, thank you, Holly." From his seat in the communications booth belowground, Foaly sounded appropriately smug. Artemis could easily visualize Holly's exasperated face, and the image made him grin as he shut up and rang the doorbell.

To say there was something unnerving about Artemis Fowl's grin would be an understatement. It would be closer to the truth to acknowledge that there was something unnerving about Artemis Fowl II. A pale young man with blue eyes hidden behind mirrored sunglasses and an oversized pair of headphones perched atop his raven hair, Artemis had reluctantly agreed to trade his typical tailored suit for a baggy hoodie and blue jeans. A pair of brand new and expertly aged sneakers were already making his feet ache, the six toes on his right foot crammed into a space intended for five. The only remaining piece of his usual attire hung around his neck: a gold coin with a perfect hole in the center, neatly strung on a sturdy cord.

Needless to say, Artemis Fowl would not be willing to put up with such discomfort if something incredibly important had not been at stake. Important to a friend.

He'd gotten the call a week ago.

During a routine scan of human communications, a teenager by the name of Becquerel Jones had set off a startling number of flags in Foaly's surveillance systems. The cause itself had been benign, yet Foaly trusted his operating systems, and it had been enough to get the paranoid part of his brain ticking. A year following the near discovery of the People in the aftermath of the Great Techno-Crash, the Lower Elements Police were operating under strict orders: no human contact was to be instigated for any reason. It simply presented too much danger. Foaly had a hunch, however, and his attempts to direct further LEP resources towards surveillance of the Jones's residence had been met with talk of budget cuts and unacceptable risks. Simply put, the centaur needed more information.

It had been Holly to suggest reaching out to Artemis. After all, resurrecting an old contact did not count as defying orders - at least, not while operating under any standard definition of "instigation." She always had been good at finding loopholes.

Even more conspicuous than his altered wardrobe was the absence of Butler, Artemis's bodyguard and oldest friend. Upon receiving Foaly's request, the Irish genius had made an executive decision: He had given his friends and family enough to worry about, over the last year, to last them through several lifetimes. By blaring loud classical music in his study and setting up a looped surveillance tape, he intended to be home before he was missed. It was not out of habit for him to spend days at a time absorbed in some project or other, and he typically did not tolerate disruption while in such a state. The odds were excellent that he would be back on Irish soil before anybody worked up the courage to pry open his study door.

After all, from Dublin to Denver was typically a ten hour flight. Artemis made it in six. He had departed as dusk was falling over Ireland, and upon touching down in a neglected airstrip he'd had to adjust his course to avoid being blinded by the late-afternoon Colorado sun.

Now Holly whispered into the line, his headphones serving a dual purpose. A tad conspicuous for his tastes but they had been Foaly's idea. "Okay, Artemis. We're going silent now. You remember the signals, right? If you need help, I'm ten minutes away. Which means you need to call  _before_  you need me, not after. Get in, plant the bugs, get out. Be careful."

"Of course," Artemis murmured, his lips not moving.

She didn't reply. A second later, Becquerel Jones opened the door. While no images had been available online of the American teen, the boy was the correct age. It was confirmed when he spoke, his voice matching the one on the other end of their phone conversation several hours before. "Hey, it's Alex, right? From the paper, that interview thing? Talking to local teenagers about the new school they're opening up, or something?"

"That's right."

"Sweet, man. Come right in."

Becquerel Jones was the sort of teenager who spent a lot of time trying to look effortlessly cool. Today he had dressed in a t-shirt that loudly proclaimed the name of some band, a relaxed pair of blue jeans held up around his hips with a knotted leather cord, a battered pair of trainers, and a single solid black bracelet wrapped around his right wrist. His auburn hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and Artemis noted that one shoelace was untied.

Artemis stepped over the threshold, eyes darting across the hallway to linger on any important features of architecture, any potential surveillance points, entrances and exits. Back in the communications booth, Foaly grumbled over the tint his sunglasses passed on to the iris cam image.

"Sweet set-up you've got here. That some kinda sound system?" He gestured upwards to the camera mount. Becquerel's eyes followed his pointing finger, and Artemis took the opportunity. His other hand pressed a tiny microphone - no larger than the head of a pin - onto the doorframe.

"Of course. And you don't have to call yourself Alex, y'know. It's fine." A deliberate pause. "Artemis Fowl the Second. I understand."

Holly blanched. "D'Arvit - !"

"Wait," Foaly shot back. "We send you in, the entire situation is blown. A whole retrieval team will need to clean this up. Let's see if Mud Boy talks his way out of this."

Holly folded her arms across her chest, ignoring the desire to shut off the link with Foaly and activate her wings, listening instead as the situation developed. For a moment, Artemis's signal was blocked out by static as the genius removed his headphones to leave them slung around his neck. No distractions. When the line cleared once more, Becquerel was speaking again.

"Look, dude. Don't play dumb. It's insulting to both of us. There are only so many kids in the world who've got our brains. You thought I wouldn't have gone down the list, sussed out the competition? Please. Give me some credit."

Artemis lifted his head, rolled his shoulders back, straightened out his spine. Dropped the act. When he spoke once more, his voice was layered with ice. Even from that distance, it sent shivers down Holly's spine. "Fair enough."

"At least tell me you did your homework, too?"

"Of course. Becquerel Jones. The youngest of two children, the only one in your family to exhibit such an abnormally high IQ. Born solidly middle-class, you proved yourself such an adept at predicting the stock market that you were arrested at nine years of age under suspicion of fraud. The charges were cleared two weeks later and your family kept the money. And then, nothing. You dropped off the map completely. So, Becquerel, you tell me: Exactly what have you been up to?"

"In all that reading, you see anything about Elizabeth?"

"Your sister? Yes, I read about that. My sympathies. If now were an appropriate time to inquire about her health, rest assured I would." Artemis narrowed his eyes, inadvertently causing the iris cam to spark. A tear sprung to his eye, and he spared a thought to be grateful that his sunglasses hid it.

"Then you know what I've been up to, because I think you're tangled up in it, too." Becquerel grinned. "The magic."

A pin could have dropped. Holly swore once more under her breath, rising to her feet and activating her wings.

"Holly -" Foaly warned. She ignored him, leaping to the sky to let the wings carry her forward.

Artemis was talking again. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, please, Art - is it okay if I call you Art? - Like I said, don't play dumb. You came in here disguised, fair enough, I might've tried the same thing. But now that it's clear we understand each other, man, trust me: honesty is really the best policy. Don't screw with me, and I won't screw with you. Respect's got to run on both sides. Not often I get to talk to somebody who can keep up, you know. I think we can really help each other out. The magic. You know it exists."

"As I said," repeated Artemis in his darkest voice, "I'm sure I have no idea."

"Let's go over what I know about you, then, shall we? The only child in an extraordinarily wealthy family, father went AWOL, mother went around the bend, fortune went down the tube, and then what?" Bec snapped his fingers. "Suddenly, poof. It all got better."

"I assure you there was nothing magical about -"

"Even if there wasn't, you can't tell me you don't have a bit of a habit of dropping off the face of the earth for months at a time? Even years?" Bec shrugged. "That wouldn't have aroused much suspicion by itself. I mean, let's face it, your family isn't exactly going to win any citizen of the year awards. But then you came back, didn't look a day older, and nobody bothered to ask where you went? Fishy, Art. Very, very fishy."

"I understand why you are delusional," said Artemis. "You are clinging to any hope of a cure for your sister's condition. A sprinkling of fairy dust, perhaps, and suddenly she will walk again? Admirable, yet deluded."

"Cut the act. You and I both know you're here because you found out what I've got and you're crapping your drawers. Probably aiming for some kind of Nobel Prize or something, thinking you can prove the existence of the People. Biggest discovery of the century. Came here to see what's up."

"Highly unlikely. However, if a word of what you said were true, how would you recommend I proceed in this scenario?"

Becquerel grinned once more, confident. "Your call. Turn around and go home, and I won't mind. Hell, won't even call you on bringing surveillance equipment and recording devices into my house without permission."

"The alternative?"

"You take off those headphones, shut down whatever camera you've got hidden in your pocket, and see how far the rabbit hole goes. I could care less about the prizes, it's not like there's a finder's fee on this stuff. Would even be willing to split the recognition, if you could let me know I'm on the right track." He paused. "Assuming you got that rabbit reference, man. I'm sure somebody of your ambition may consider fiction to be a waste of time, in which case I totally apologize."

Artemis paused, seeming to consider the offer. Finally, he wound the headset cord around his thumb and forefinger in a loop to keep it tidy. "Alice in Wonderland. Carroll, 1865. And I suppose I've really got no option here, have I? If you have followed in the footsteps of many historical genii and allowed your intellect to drive you insane, as I suspect, then I can't in good conscience leave. And if there is even a grain of truth to your statements, it's worth my time to stay." As he pressed a button to kill the audio surveillance, he tapped the device two times.  _Stay put_. The sound echoed.

Holly grit her teeth as she adjusted her altitude, the exact opposite of reassured. "Removed his wire. Awesome. Great. Exactly what we told him not to do. Of course."

"Holly -" began Foaly once more, his hooves drumming a staccato pattern on the tile floor of the communications booth. Anxious.

"No, no. It's fine. Just, when he gets out of there, I'm going to kill him."

-x-

Becquerel's laboratory was located down the hall, through a security-laden door, and up two flights of stairs. It was a bright and spacious room, with slanting ceilings and skylights that allowed the sun to shine through. There were posters tacked to the walls of various bands Artemis had never heard of - nor had he ever wanted to. A counter was built along the far wall, holding a collection of computer monitors, tablets, and other electronic devices. Along another wall was a steel-framed cabinet containing all manner of scientific apparati. Two desks stood side by side in the centre of the room, their surfaces covered with the innards of several disassembled hard drives.

Thus far the only alarming feature of the laboratory was its unkempt condition. Becquerel Jones clearly worked best in a state of controlled chaos, and it was enough to make the Irish genius's skin crawl. It was impossible to examine everything, so Artemis did not allow his gaze to linger on any particular feature, knowing the iris recording would be reviewed at a later time in great detail. An insignificant piece of evidence, one that required the connection to the People to be read into it, might easily have been left out in the open. Instead, Bec crossed the room to a small, black safe in the corner, blocking the door with his body as he keyed in a combination. The laptop he retrieved was sleek and silver, and potentially very dangerous.

He had to push away a mess of wires to make space for the laptop on the desk, and swiftly typed in a password before gesturing for Artemis to draw near. The background, Artemis noted as he moved to the young genius's side, was an illustration from Carroll's book. Rather than gravitating towards Tenniel's more popular illustrations, Becquerel apparently preferred the sketches created by Carroll's own hand to accompany the first draft of  _Alice in Wonderland_ \- images which had never seen mass publication.  _Interesting_. And then Bec had opened a new window and rows of numbers flooded the screen.

He stepped back, eyebrows raised, one hand stretched in an unconsciously dramatic manner to the laptop. Artemis stepped closer, bending down to examine the data while doing his best to feign disinterest. "Numbers," he said crisply, "You think numbers prove the existence of fairies?"

Bec wasn't fazed. "Go ahead, man. Take your time. Surely the great Artemis Fowl can figure out a spreadsheet."

The great Artemis Fowl already had an inkling, and the mere possibility was enough to worry him. "Satellite data," he admitted.

Bec typed a command into the keyboard; the screen split to display a second set of data. "And yet," he said, turning the screen back to his guest, "The numbers don't correlate with known records. Something is different. They've been hidden."

"Government agencies hide satellites all the time. This is nothing new."

"But these are not government satellites! Man, look, I've run the numbers a hundred times. They don't belong to any government - not that we know of - not human. The data signatures are way out of whack."

It  _was_  evidence - cold, clear, factual evidence that any intelligent mind could interpret. Artemis could easily leave now and tell Holly to break in that night to destroy the information, but that was no assurance. He had to learn where Becquerel had found this data and ensure there would be no possible method of reproducing it. If Foaly's shields had been breached, the leak needed to be found. Above all else this had to be done properly, or it would come back to haunt them all.

"An interesting hypothesis," he finally acknowledged. "Quite the leap of logic, to take some odd numbers and infer the existence of magic. In the interest of  _complete honesty_ , where did you come up with this data?"

Bec raised a hand. "Information goes both ways, Art. Your turn. What do you have to share with me?"

Artemis was suddenly acutely aware of the coin - fairy gold - that had slipped from his shirt when bending over the laptop. He hadn't even noticed it, should have noticed it. In addition, his eye still stung from the iris cam hidden behind his sunglasses, and the wire in his headphones could easily be discovered.

"Rumours," he said at last, "That's all I've ever heard. Frankly, I wasted too much time on this search in my younger years. As you so kindly reminded me, my mother was ill. I became too caught up in a hope that did not exist, looking for an answer that simply was not there. My research was conclusive on that point: conspiracy theories, nothing more."

Bec stared hard at him. "I'd have an easier time of believing you if you took those glasses off."

"Excuse me?"

Bec paced to the end of the desk before turning to face Artemis. "Take off those sunglasses and tell me this data doesn't point towards the existence of another race."

"I do not appreciate the hostility."

"Nor do I," said Bec coldly.

Artemis reminded himself that the iris cam was invisible to any who weren't looking for it and reached up to remove the glasses from his face. With overt formality, he took his time folding the arms together before tucking the glasses into the pocket of his shirt.

"Your data is a dead end," he said flatly. "There is nothing there but make-believe and wishes. I suggest a return to reality if you wish to help her, Becquerel. My father's worked with excellent physical therapists, and I'm positive they could be persuaded to assist you."

He stared hard at the teen, doing his best to believe his own words in order to convince the other boy of their truth. Bec's expression was still but his eyes searching Artemis's face for any sign of the lie. It was Bec who looked away first, his eyes flickering down to the desk for an instant. It was enough.

"Are we done here?" Artemis asked.

Bec shrugged. "Sure thing, Art. Show yourself out."

Artemis stared at him a moment longer before turning away. There were still questions but at this point, it would be more productive for Holly to put the genius under a mesmer and follow up with a mind-wipe. He had more than enough information to justify any action Foaly proposed; now, it was simply a matter of reaching the rendezvous point to deliver the iris cam to Holly.

Behind him, a drawer scraped open. Something metallic clicked, and Artemis froze.

"That's fairy gold around your neck."

"You really have gone mad," Artemis said. It was as though he'd learned nothing about the ill effects of taunting those pointing a gun to his head despite the surprisingly large number of times he had, at one point or another, had a gun to his head. "You don't really expect to -"

The tranq dart hit him in the neck.

 _That hasn't happened in a while_ , he thought, and then the world went black.

-x-

Outside, Holly perched on the neighbor's mailbox and waited.

"Oh no," said Foaly.

"Patch me in, I need visuals. What's going on?" Every instinct she had was telling her to just enter the damn house already; her years of training forced her to wait.

"Oh no," Foaly repeated. "Mud Boy's a good shot."

"No, Artemis is an awful shot," Holly corrected automatically. A moment later her brain caught up, and her stomach dropped. "Oh, no."

"And we've lost visual," the centaur proclaimed.

-x-

Becquerel hadn't expected Artemis to go down so fast. Nor had he expected him to be quite so heavy, given the Irish genius's slender frame. It took more effort than expected to roll him on his back so Bec could retrieve the coin - obviously fairy gold, confirmed by Artemis's reaction to his accusation. Next were the pockets, empty save for the mirrored sunglasses and the cord to the headphones. There was a module in the right earpiece that Bec didn't have the time to dissect; he set it aside on the corner of his desk.

Artemis's eyes were still fluttering. Bec was ready to conclude that he'd found the only bugs when he noticed something about the left eye. Carefully, he lifted the eyelid to see that a contact lens had slipped to reveal the blue iris underneath. Only one eye. Odd.

Upon examination, the underside of the lens was coated with an incredibly fine layer of circuitry, too advanced for him to untangle with the naked eye, too delicate to be created by human hands. He turned back to his bench, hunting through another drawer for a vial of saline solution. Kept on-hand to flush dust from delicate hardware, it would do a decent job of preserving the lens.

Behind him, Artemis Fowl groaned into the floor. Further examination would have to wait.

Thankfully, maneuvering Artemis down the stairs was easy enough once gravity took over. Becquerel even muttered an apology for the bruises the sedated genius would likely discover upon waking, cringing as Artemis's head hit the last step with a particularly sharp thunk. Luckily for them both, the sedative held.

-x-

The maroon minivan peeled from the garage like a horse out of the gate, skidding as it turned from the front drive to meet the main road. Torn between worry and resignation, Holly kicked off from the mailbox to follow it. "You're sure Artemis is in the van?"

"I'm sure," Foaly neighed. A keyboard clicked in Holly's ear, and she could hear his hooves through the mike again as they beat a nervous tattoo on the floor. "Definitely two warm bodies in that vehicle. Fowl's alive, though his vitals are a bit wonky. Just be careful, Holly. This could be a trap."

"For who?" Holly asked dryly, "I'm invisible, right? You said the only thing Jones had was numbers."

"Satellite data," Foaly corrected. "Hidden satellites.  _Our_  hidden satellites. If he can find those, he can find you."

"I've got my shield."

"You've also got fairy tech."

"But he's got Artemis, so there we go."

"Remind me again how you two haven't managed to get each other killed yet?" Foaly complained.

She was silent, and Foaly remembered.

"Admittedly, that was a poor choice of words. Fine. Go get our Mud Boy out of there."

-x-

A groan came from the back as Artemis stirred. Bec raised his eyes to the rear view mirror to see a hand reaching up, clutching at the leather for a grip as Artemis tried to pull himself up. "The trunk?" he groaned, "You - put me - in the - ?"

For an instant, Becquerel Jones wondered if his life had somehow become a zombie film. The top of a head showed over the seat, raven hair askew. Startled, Bec slammed his foot down on the brake. Artemis was thrown forward, bouncing off the seat and rebounding into the trunk door before sinking once more out of sight.

Bec whirled around, straining for any sign of Artemis. He was hidden behind the seat again and no longer making sounds.

 _I've killed him._ No. No - he'd been knocked unconscious and would at worst suffer a concussion in addition to the effects of the tranq.  _Unless the tranq's killed him - he's probably allergic - no, no. He's got to be okay. Right?_

And then the sound of retching started. For the first, last, and only time in his life, Becquerel was relieved to hear it.

It also gave him an idea, and as he merged onto the freeway he reached for his cell phone. "Hello, police? I'd like to report a disturbance."

-x-

The omnitool buzzed, and Artemis groaned from his spot on a cot. He hadn't moved since being placed in the precinct drunk tank, an exasperated pair of police officers assuming he needed to sleep off a particularly excessive binge. The only indication that Artemis was at all conscious came every time footsteps echoed through the hall - a wince, and an attempt to curl up a little bit more tightly. He hadn't even looked up when she called his name as loudly as she dared. Definitely not good.

It had been a long wait for the surveillance feed to be hacked and for the hallway to clear. This wait had been made even longer by having to listen to Foaly, who was in a state of blind panic.

"Butler's going to kill us," he whinnied for the sixth time in as many minutes.

"Yes, I know," she hissed, unshielding long enough to jam the sensor a little bit more fiercely against the lock. "I got that the first time you said it. Besides, you're safe in the communications booth. I'm the one who's got to deal with this mess, so just make sure the security loop stays steady. Last thing we need is an interspecies crisis because your weapons scanners failed to pick up a tranq dart."

"No, this is Butler we're talking about. I am definitely  _not safe_  in the communications booth!"

Holly didn't dignify that with a response. The mechanism finally clicked; the cell door rattled open. Artemis flinched at the sound, finally twisting his neck in a feeble attempt to see what was happening. Even under the buzzing fluorescent lights, she knew he shouldn't be so green.

"Easy, Arty," she said, dropping her voice into a lower register in an attempt to be soothing. It didn't seem to matter much - Artemis's eyes crossed from trying to focus, and he gave up. Turned back to the wall, set his head back down with an apathetic mumble.

 _Clone immune systems_ , Holly knew. Foaly, after all, had frantically explained it several times over. Months ago, they had saved their friend's life. By using a strand of Artemis's DNA to clone him following his early demise, Holly and Foaly had been able to transplant his soul into the new body, effectively bringing him back from the dead. While infinitely better than the alternative, the process still had drawbacks. For instance, a clone grown over the course of six months in a lab lacked the usual chemical tolerances. Artemis never stood a chance - of course a typically harmless dose of sedative had made him violently ill.

"Too bad," she muttered to herself, knowing he was far from listening. "We've gotta get out of here anyways."

"Huh?"

 _Artemis Fowl, reduced to monosyllables. Fantastic. Foaly's right - Butler really is going to kill us when he finds out_. "I said, we're getting you out of here. Already wiped your prints from the system. Can you sit up?"

"Oh."

To his credit, Artemis tried. His arms wobbled, though, and the room spun in time with the pounding in his head. She darted in, swearing under her breath, to catch him by the shoulder before he could tumble to the floor.

This was going to be a very, very long night.

-x-

Artemis swam through the muddled spiral of thoughts, slowly pulling himself towards consciousness. Even in this state, he recognized the cause as a heavy dose of tranquilizer - and what did that say about his life? He really needed to stop putting himself in these situations, if only because the customary post-tranquilizer headache interfered with his ability to properly think his way back towards coherence.

 _No, that's not quite true_ , he corrected.  _The customary post-tranquilizer headache is nowhere near this severe_.

When he concentrated, he could hear the movements of others in the room. Breathing to his right, a rustle of fabric near his feet, a cough on the left. He waited, but no more information was forthcoming; finally Artemis cracked open one eye and took in the unfamiliar white ceiling.

And then Holly's face appeared in his line of vision. Even in his bleary state, he noted the hallmarks of exhaustion. "Good, you're awake. I should kill you."

Artemis frowned, squeezed his eye shut again, and wondered for one instant whether he'd actually woken up. "What… did I do this time?"

She shook her head in exasperation. On the left, Foaly piped up, a tinny quality to the centaur's voice belying an unstable video connection. "You've got quite the knockout cocktail in your blood," he began. "Not to mention, you were sporting a fantastic concussion for an hour or so back there."

Artemis let his mind wander back to his last memories before waking up. "Of course," he said, "The dart. He actually shot me."

He attempted to sit up, only to meet resistance at Holly's hands. "Yes, we noticed. And careful. Stay put for now, we don't need you toppling over. We've got time."

It was rather humiliating, he reflected, to be confined to bed rest after a mere tranquilizer dose, when in the past he'd shaken off similar effects in the midst of crises involving trolls and time travel. Artemis waited until the elf had moved away before struggling into a sitting position. It took more out of him than expected, confirmation that the clone body was no more resistant to a knockout drug than it was to the common cold. Still, he managed to prop himself up against the pillows, staring about the room.

He recognized it, now that he was able to see more than the ceiling. While this was his first stay, Artemis could place the set-up as the minimalist approach to decorating employed by all cheap motel rooms. On his left, the television displayed Foaly's face against the backdrop of his booth. And, at the other end of the room was the other person he had sensed upon regaining consciousness. Commander Kelp himself, seated at the desk and reading through a file on his hologram screen.

"Commander," Artemis said in surprise.

Kelp shut off his screen and turned in his chair to face the bed. "Fowl," he acknowledged.

The commander's tone of voice was foreboding. Artemis wondered whether he should begin putting together a defence - only he wasn't exactly clear on the accusation. There wasn't much sense in delaying, though. "I doubt you are here out of concern."

"You made a mess in there, Fowl," Kelp agreed. "We were lucky to get you out with minimal losses."

Artemis sat up straight. "Losses?"

"My surveillance equipment," Foaly bemoaned from the screen. "He even caught the iris cam! Luckily, I'd made sure every piece I gave you had the self-destruct enabled."

"Luckily," Kelp echoed.

Artemis was horrified. "Self-destruct? But that was in my eye!" And then, "How long before you activated the self-destruct? Did Jones have a chance to examine the equipment?"

The pause was not reassuring. It was Holly who answered at last. "We lost contact with you for a while before you were finally… escorted from the property. The moment it was clear the equipment was no longer in your possession, we activated the self-destruct, but there was a chunk of unaccounted time."

Artemis stared down at his hands, thinking hard. The others knew better than to interrupt. At last, he looked up again. "I expect you want a full debriefing, Commander?"

Kelp rose from his chair. "Actually, no. Holly, Foaly, if we could have a minute alone?"

_Oh no._

Foaly huffed a sigh and the screen cut to black. The room was stifling with apprehension as Holly rounded the bed on her way out of the room. She turned to flash a quick, reassuring smile before closing the door behind her; it did not fill Artemis with confidence.

Nor did Kelp's next words: "The Council has become aware of the situation, Fowl."

 _They know_ , Artemis thought numbly,  _They've figured out that I'm a clone. Cloning is illegal and despite my past actions - or possibly because of them - the Council is going to -_ Only, he couldn't actually figure out just what the Council would do. He rather doubted they would kill him, and Foaly was too important to the LEP to place in jail. Or so he hoped.

Kelp was still talking. "Fowl, I'm going to be blunt. Last time you were involved in anything even remotely tangential to LEP business, half the world blew up."

"I thought it was decided that I was not at fault?"

"Oh, it was. But this sort of thing happens around you a lot, and let me tell you, we've got rooms full of sprites dealing with the resulting paperwork. A bureaucratic nightmare, Fowl. Hundreds of man-hours. Thousands of them. Enough to make a troll sob for his mommy."

"I thought trolls ate their mothers?"

"Oh, they do. So no, Fowl, this isn't a job offer. It's a demand." Kelp threw down a single acorn badge onto the blanket that covered Artemis's legs. "Foaly's got a security breach, we need it found, and we need to keep an eye on you. Frankly, I doubt you'll stop being involved in LEP affairs any time soon, so you may as well fall under some kind of jurisdiction." More carefully, he lifted a bundle that had been sitting on the desk, pulling away the cloth to reveal a small, silver neutrino. "Unfortunately, this comes with the territory, too. Standard issue, even for consultants."

Artemis side-eyed the gun, his head still spinning. "And what, exactly, am I supposed to do with that?"

"I don't care what the hell you do. Hopefully this won't need to be a lasting arrangement. Find the security breach, make sure it doesn't happen again, and above all else..." Kelp heaved a sigh. "Just do your own damn paperwork next time."

-x-

Upon re-entering the room, Holly did not bother asking what had been discussed. She merely saw the Neutrino in Artemis's lap, registered the potential disaster, and took action. In one swift movement the weapon was pried from Artemis's loose grip, the charge packs removed, and the body of the gun tucked against her belt for safekeeping.

"Excuse  _me_!"

She quirked an eyebrow in a manner that reminded Artemis strongly of himself. "Do you really want to have this discussion now, Fowl? Because we can. I've had a long night. Let's have this discussion now." She bared her teeth.

"There's nothing to discuss - that was mine!" he protested. Not the most eloquent argument, but he supposed he could be excused, given the circumstances.

It cut no ice with the elf, who promptly shot a glare across the room. "Commander, can you explain what's going on here?"

"Yeah, I'm a bit worried, too," piped up Foaly, who had reappeared on the screen. "Who thought it was a good idea to arm the civilian Mud Boy?"

"Not a civilian any more," Trouble explained. "Foaly, you dropped the ball on this one. We made the executive call - until this mess is straightened out, Fowl's a consultant for the LEP. He'll be going over every inch of your system with a fine-toothed comb until we sort out where those satellite numbers came from."

"You're going to give him free reign?" Holly yelped. "Doesn't that strike you as a bit...I don't know, irresponsible?"

"Well, I could tell you my solution to that problem, but you won't like it."

"Tell me anyways," Holly said.

Trouble told her. She didn't like it.

Neither did Artemis. "I don't need to be babysat, especially not by Holly. I am not a child," he said indignantly, turning his coldest glare on the room.

"You don't get a vote." The other three voices in the room spoke as one.

"Though for the record, I agree with Artemis," Holly said, her arms folded across her chest. "As usual, he's right: I don't need to be babysitting him."

A thud sounded from the hall. Artemis glanced to the door. "You couldn't have found a quieter motel?"

"I was more preoccupied with getting us out of sight," Holly responded sharply.

Another thud, closer this time. Artemis had heard the sound before. "Holly -"

The next time, the sound was close enough to make out. It was surprisingly distinct, the crack of a heavy boot coming into contact with a door that wasn't all too keen on staying closed. In an instant, Holly and Kelp had both drawn their weapons and leveled them to the door.

"Arty, get down," Holly warned.

The door crashed open. There, towering in the space, was a mountain - or rather, a man shaped like a mountain.

With a click, Foaly disappeared from the screen in the corner.

"Butler!" Artemis exclaimed as guiltily as if he had been caught sneaking out in the middle of the night. Which, technically speaking, he had.

The bodyguard had frozen, his firearm still raised as he took in the scene. Neither of the fairies had lowered their neutrinos, unwilling to give in until they were sure the Mud Man meant them no harm.

His eyes centred on Artemis, still weak and bleary-eyed, dressed in a graphic t-shirt, his hair limp and sticking to his forehead. "I know you're not going to believe me," he said with an anxious glance to the empty screen in the corner, "But this was undeniably Foaly's fault."

"Absolutely," Holly seconded.

"As Commander, I can confirm these statements," added Kelp. "Definitely the centaur's fault."

Butler stared wide-eyed between the three of them, chest heaving as he processed the situation. Then, at last, he lowered his gun. "I presume," he said forcibly, "That means as soon as you explain exactly what's going on here, someone's cutting his budget?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it turns out that Foaly was right after all: he is not safe in the communications booth! And Holly was right, too: the universe hasn't forgotten exactly how much bad karma Artemis is carrying. Not yet, at least. (Though if it's any reassurance, we promise Arty won't be so helpless all the time!)
> 
> I suppose this is the place to warn you: This fic is going to be long. To give you some idea, our outline currently sits at 20K and sketches out the course of twenty-one episodes. This is only the first one, so that should give you some idea of the scope we're aiming for!
> 
> As far as division of labour goes, this episode was a fairly even split. Most of it was written in collaboration, though the scene where Artemis wakes up in the motel room was all Winged, and I was responsible for the introduction of Becquerel Jones. Winged also did the majority of the fact-checking, though if the time zones are wrong that is entirely my own fault.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading - we hope to have more posted for you soon! -Freud
> 
> Freud's referring to "episodes" because originally, we started out with a rough outline of a television show - three seasons long - following the characters after the events of the books. It's a series we'd both love to watch so, failing that, we're writing it instead and sticking (as best we can) to the format.
> 
> Also, if you enjoy this you may like to take a look at our other AF collab, Schrödinger's Zombie. It's our attempt at expanding the last chapter of the final book in the series. We're considering SZ as a part of the same 'verse as Foul Team, with elements such as the clone immune system originating there.
> 
> One last thing - you can't imagine the number of texts we've sent to each other over this. The sheer number! Point of the matter being we really, really hope you enjoy reading this as much as we enjoy creating it.
> 
> Cheers! - Winged


	2. Culture Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 1.02: The Foul Team is established and receives its first real job.

There are some forces in this world that it is impossible to account for. Artemis had known for years that Holly Short was one of them, and was rapidly coming to the realization that he really should have added his younger brothers to the list the day that he found out they existed.

At least, he reflected with a grimace, Holly knew perfectly well that a locked study door meant, "Keep Out." Myles and Beckett Fowl merely took it as a challenge. Both twins displayed an exceptional knack for creative problem-solving, especially given their age: in a frantic attempt to avoid a set bedtime they had unanimously decided to take refuge in their brother's study, locked door or not. As Myles had attempted to bypass the security keypad Artemis had set up as a safeguard against exactly this scenario, Beckett had simply found a suitably pointed fountain pen nib and used it as a screwdriver to remove the hinges from the door. Thus, two and a half hours after Artemis left for Denver, his absence was discovered.

At moments like this, Artemis almost felt sorry for his parents. When he had been five, he had confined his schemes to a purely theoretical realm. Beckett and Myles clearly had no such intent.

Not that pointing this out would help Artemis much in this particular situation.

"Son," said Artemis Sr, seated with his hands folded on the desk in front of him, "You made a poor decision today."

So it was going to be one of  _those_  talks, then. He wished his head didn't still hurt quite so badly - the residual ache from the sedative made it very difficult to think clearly. Even the low light cast by the lamp over the desk made his vision waver. For the first time in his life, Artemis was experiencing something extremely akin to a hangover and (also perhaps for the first time in his life) he was discovering in much the same manner as his peers that the sensation was not a pleasant one. That was the problem with firsthand experience: it required actual experience.

"I don't understand," said Angeline Fowl, from her seat at her husband's side. "Arty, this kind of bad judgement - it's just not like you."

"I had my reasons," he answered stiffly. It was easier to address his response to his father, who narrowed his eyes.

"Presumably, those reasons did not include a desire to worry your mother and myself? Artemis, when we saw you were gone, we knew any number of things could have happened to you. We were lucky Butler kept a cool head and traced you to Denver."

"A friend called in a favour on short notice, and I did not intend to be missed. And I do apologize for causing you that distress. It will not happen again."

For a long moment, the study was silent.

"This friend," Angeline said, finally. "Arty, would I be far off the mark if I asked if Holly was involved in this?"

"A girl?" Artemis Sr looked to his wife, who shrugged demurely, waiting for her son to answer.

Even in his dulled state, the eldest Fowl son was fully aware that there was no safe response to this question. He had, after all, promised his mother complete honesty. He owed her that much. "Yes, that would be an accurate assumption. Holly requested my help in resolving a minor surveillance problem."

"You snuck out of the house and flew yourself to America to meet up with a girl?"

"In so many words, father, yes, though I assure you -"

"You really are a chip off the old block. Angeline, do you remember how we met?" Fowl Sr leaned forwards in his chair, intently studying his son's pale face. "Not to trivialize the grave nature of what has happened here today, of course," he quickly amended, feeling his wife's glare.

"I think what your father means to say," said Angeline, "Is that regardless of your reasoning, you still made a choice that exposed you to unnecessary risk and caused us worry."

"I truly am sorry, mother," replied Artemis, finally making eye contact. "As stated, it was not my intent."

"I'm sure this will be water under the bridge, given time," said Fowl Sr, still trying (and failing) to hide a sudden surge of pride in his son. "After all, the important thing is that nobody was harmed. I am a bit ashamed, Arty, that you failed to cover your tracks. I would have expected better from -"

"Timmy!" Angeline broke eye contact to level another glare at her husband, who broke off mid-sentence.

"What I mean to say, of course, is that we are both glad you are safe."

If his head had not hurt quite so badly, Artemis would have considered mentioning the mixed messages he was receiving. He would have stated exactly how careful he had been to avoid unnecessary risk, called attention to the fact that his brothers had physically removed the door from his study, and definitely clarified the exact nature of the friendship that existed between himself and Holly Short.

Yes, if he had not still felt so weak, dizzy, and feeble, he would have had quite a lot more to add to the conversation. As it was, however, he simply took the excuse to change the topic of discussion away from the embarrassment of being caught in such a transgression by a pair of five year-olds.

"I realize this is not a good time to broach the topic, but I would like to discuss a business proposition that has recently caught my attention. Holly, my friend, works with the Lower Elements Police force, and as a result of my findings in America they have offered me a short-term position as a consultant. If you have no objections, I intend to accept."

"You want to become a police officer?" If Fowl Sr had sounded mildly confused before, he now seemed entirely baffled, staring at his son as though he could not quite comprehend exactly what had happened to the boy he had once groomed to follow in his footsteps as the head of a criminal empire. Reformed or not, Fowl Sr had definitely not expected such an extreme turnaround in his son's moral compass.

"Hardly, father. A consultant."

"A consultant, fair enough. But law enforcement? I wasn't aware that was an area you were interested in?"

It went unspoken that, traditionally, the Fowl family's only interest in the law had manifested itself in an uncanny ability to find loopholes in it. Artemis had even discovered, nearly a year prior, that several of his ancestors had been pirates. "Yes. Law enforcement."

"Is this because of her? I am starting to get the impression that I really should meet Holly, if she is to become such a large part of your life."

Again, Artemis did not quite feel up to the task of fully expressing himself. After all, Holly had been a large part of his life for nearly a decade - but again, clarifying the exact nature of their relationship required time, energy, and a clarity of thought that Artemis currently knew he lacked. He held his tongue as Angeline touched her husband's arm, gently.

"And I'm sure you will. If Artemis feels up to it, I believe it would be good for him to have a project. Somewhere to focus his attention. Healthy, even." She searched her son's face for a moment. "Given everything that's happened this year, if Arty is interested in this, I believe we should encourage him to stretch his wings and give it a try."

More unspoken words. Artemis knew all too keenly that in this past year, his parents had seen him declared legally dead for the second time. He could not help but notice the way they still looked at him every time he entered a room, as though faced with a living ghost.

-x-

Butler was waiting outside the hall when Artemis stepped through the door. His arms were crossed over his chest, his fingers drumming against his arm as he stared down at his charge.

"Butler," Artemis sighed. "I must apologize for my earlier behaviour. Understand I only wished - "

"Enough, Artemis. I've heard your excuses."

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "My reasonings are my own. Again, I apologize for causing you worry."

He started towards the stairs and Butler pivoted to follow. While the bodyguard neglected to say anything more, Artemis could sense his disapproval. It made for an uncomfortable walk to his bedroom, as neither was willing to concede defeat.

The bodyguard cleared his throat as they reached the study. "Artemis -"

"Yes, Butler?"

"If I leave you alone in that study, tell me you aren't going to disappear on us again."

The corner of Artemis's mouth twitched. "Would you like me to hang a sign next time I sneak out of the manor?"

-x-

Truth be told, Holly still wasn't sure that Commander Kelp wasn't pulling some trick on her. To be discovered in the aftermath of a surveillance exercise gone wrong with a drunk teenager of morally ambiguous nature should have led to demotion or, at the least, traffic duty for a few weeks. Instead, Kelp had hired Artemis as a consultant and transferred her to - to what? Babysitting duty?

Perhaps it would have been easier to see the good in this new situation if Holly had any idea what she was supposed to be doing now. Her first discovery upon returning to the LEP headquarters in Haven was that her desk space had already been reassigned. There had been a great deal of chaos in the LEP following the Great Techno Crash, with officers often rotated between departments in order to keep up with the demands of rebuilding the city and wiping any sign of their existence from human technology. Still, she couldn't help but be a little peeved to find that all her office supplies had been confined to the contents of a plastic file box.

"You aren't leaving that here," objected the pixie who had taken over the desk space. He eyed the box unhappily. "I need my space."

"And I need my desk," Holly said testily. "Let me talk to the Commander and get this cleared up."

"Better take your box with you," snipped the pixie, "Because it won't be here when you come back."

Holly liked to think that years of dealing with Artemis Fowl and those characters generally associated with their exploits had taught her a lot about self control. Even so, it took everything she had learned to refrain from letting loose. Instead, she grit her teeth, slid the box off the desk, and headed straight to the commander's office.

It was as though Kelp had been waiting for her. "You got Grub's message?" he asked the moment she stepped through the door.

"No," she said, trying not to grit her teeth, "I haven't seen him."

Kelp rubbed his forehead and tapped a note into his computer. "He was supposed to inform you that your desk had been reassigned."

Holly looked down at the file box in her hands. "So I've learned."

Kelp sighed. "Captain Short, I don't need to remind you that conditions around here have been difficult over the past year."

"I understand that, sir."

But Kelp wasn't done. "This chaos is only another reason why we need Fowl to look things over. We need someone with a level head, someone removed from the chaos of the force, who can focus on this job."

"You make it sound as though hiring him was a rational decision."

"I'll admit there is a degree of risk in asking a human to consult on LEP matters. But you know better than anyone that Artemis is the human to ask. He's motivated, given the outcome of his encounter with Jones. He'll find the security leak, and I doubt it will take him more than a day or two to do it."

Holly looked down at her file box again and conceded defeat. "I assume I still get a desk?"

"Right, yes." The commander was avoiding her eye, which was never a good sign. "Ask Foaly for the room number. There's space for the new office to set up."

Holly could not think of any place in Police Plaza that had not already been converted into office space. "An entire office, sir?"

"Space for yourself and Fowl, yes. Now if you wouldn't mind, Captain, I have my own work to attend to. Issues that I had to put off in order to pay a visit above ground yesterday."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

She turned to the door before the full meaning of his words hit her. "Fowl?" she repeated. "Fowl's coming here?"

Kelp set down his stylus with a sigh. "Yes, Holly. Fowl is coming here. We need him on-site to go through system details. Is there a problem?"

There were several problems, as far as Holly was concerned, all of them beginning and ending with Artemis Fowl. Instead, she forced a deep breath. "No, sir," she said firmly, and left the office in order to hunt down Foaly.

-x-

Foaly had the indecency to look mildly smug when Holly entered the Operations Booth. "Captain Short!" he cried cheerfully, "How is my favourite new transfer?"

"Just give me the room number," Holly sighed in response. Her arms were getting tired from toting around the filing box.

The centaur whinnied and typed a command into the computer. A moment later, Holly's wrist computer beeped. She huffed impatiently.

"If you haven't noticed, my hands are full. Where am I going, Foaly?"

"You know where the boiler room is?"

"Oh no."

He smiled quite unhelpfully. "You will never look at budget cuts the same again. And think of it this way - at least they gave you some desks."

-x-

Holly was there when the shuttle doors opened, waiting with a hand on her hip and a tired smile in place. As Artemis stepped out onto the platform with his briefcase in hand, Holly glanced into the shuttle behind him.

"Where's Butler?"

He regarded her cooly. "Really, is that the way you greet every business consultant? No hello?"

She made the point of meeting his eyes. "Hello, Artemis. Where's Butler?"

"He has remained at Fowl Manor." He saw the concern that crossed her face and hurried to assure her, "He is fine. However, this is a simple consultation and I convinced him that I would be perfectly safe in the vicinity of Police Plaza the entire time. Besides, if something were to come up, I'm sure we would be able to take care of the situation ourselves."

"By which you mean I would do all the shooting while you hide under a desk."

He smiled. "Precisely. In any case, I assured both Butler and my parents that at any sign of trouble, I would return home straightaway."

Holly's expression seemed to indicate that she remained skeptical, but she did not argue. "At least you're walking in a straight line now," she said, peering up to study her friend's face. Artemis seemed tired but stable, and his bloodshot eyes were focusing properly as his gaze swept over the crowded shuttle port. "Thank the gods for that, at least. Foaly nearly had a coronary back in Denver."

"I was meaning to thank you for that, Holly," he said, meeting her gaze once more. "I realize that the incident in Denver was something of an embarrassment to us both, and you -"

"Oh, no." The elf raised both hands, defensive as she took a step off the platform and onto the tile. "There's no 'us both' about this one. You're the one who removed your wire, Fowl."

"Either way," Artemis replied stiffly, trailing after her with his hand still clenched around the handle of his briefcase, "I meant to thank you. I acknowledge that caring for me while I was ill could not have made for an enjoyable evening."

"Not enjoyable?" Holly let out a sharp laugh. "Arty, I promise to never speak of this again if you promise me that, next time there's a sedative gun aimed at your head, you duck."

"Seconded. I admit, the experience was highly disagreeable," the young man agreed, following her. He had an easier time navigating the crowd than she did, having a height advantage over nearly everybody else in the terminal. It helped, too, that each time an individual refused to move out of their path, the poor soul became the target of a piercing cold glare.

"That's why you're here alone, isn't it?" asked Holly, peering over her shoulder. "You  _are_  embarrassed over this whole thing. Willing to bet you didn't even want to tell Butler the whole story because he'd have some serious words for you over it."

Artemis merely adjusted his grip on his briefcase, reaching with his other hand to open the door. "It doesn't matter," he said. Holly darted under his outstretched arm to reach the door first, skipping out onto the city street. She paused in the doorway, considering.

"So, how much trouble did you even get in?"

"Apparently, I am to be 'grounded' the moment I return aboveground. I am still uncertain whether this is an accomplishment or something to be ashamed of." His nose crinkled for a moment in a mild expression of distaste.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I didn't even realize that was a thing that could happen to you. Grounded. Like a normal person." Holly thought back to her relocated desk, and realized that she really didn't feel bad for him at all.

-x-

"Explain to me why it had to be the boiler room. Really, I'm dying to know."

"Stop whining, Fowl. It's not becoming. You've got a desk, a chair, and access to the mainframe. You are only here to consult, after all. Don't need anything more than that." Foaly spun around in his swivel chair to survey the human who had somehow managed to override the security system and gain access to his ops booth. What was worse was that the elf who had been assigned to babysit him had apparently stood guard as he manipulated the system into giving him clearance. Foaly had hoped to have this conversation over video conference rather than face-to-face, but clearly that was not in the cards.

"This is a passive-aggressive attempt at retaliation for the cutting of your budget," Artemis concluded, pressing his fingertips together.

"And even if it is? All the paperwork is in place, Artemis." The centaur snapped a carrot in two between his front teeth, chewed noisily for a moment, and swallowed it with a grin. "You've even got your own department, seeing as nobody else wanted to touch this one with a ten foot pole."

"Can you blame them?" muttered Holly from where she leaned against the doorframe, her arms folded across her chest. "The moment he's involved in  _anything_ , it escalates."

"I resent that," protested Artemis. Holly shrugged, daring him to argue. Rather than take the bait he chose to turn his attention back to Foaly, narrowing his eyes. "If I didn't know better, centaur, I would suspect that you were feeling somewhat redundant, seeing as I was called in to examine the systems that you built after you failed to keep them secure. Arranging for me to be placed as far away from your control center as possible would serve to keep your own sense of autonomy intact, and thus enable you to feel as though you've managed to retain some control over your domain."

"Says the Mud Boy who removed his wire and spent the night sick and babbling after he got tranqued by an American," remarked Foaly with a satisfied swish of the tail. "That's your office while you're here, and you can take it or leave it. Either way, it's not my problem."

"Can you two just stop already?" groaned Holly, finally pushing away from the door. "You're both giving me a headache. The sooner we're done here, the sooner I get my desk back."

"Well, pending an approved transfer, of course," said Foaly. "New department, and all that."

"Dare I ask if we've got a name?" said Artemis dryly.

The centaur brightened. "Actually, you do. I came up with it myself. LEPfoul. Get it?"

"'Fowl,' as in, my name?" For once, the human sounded puzzled. "That seems trite."

"Of course not like your name. It's an acronym. Fowl Operating Under the LEP. F-O-U-L." The centaur beamed with pride. "I came up with it."

"Isn't the second 'L' redundant, then?" Artemis pointed out. Foaly glared, and Holly stifled a snicker.

-x-

For once, human and elf were in total agreement as they walked down the hallway towards the boiler room, having been effectively shooed from the lab after spending several minutes mocking the moniker of their makeshift police department.

"Foaly spends far too much time trying to be clever."

-x-

For all that the LEP wanted Artemis to do his job and leave in the quickest possible manner, they were doing a terrible job of letting him work. In the two hours since he had logged into the computer system, the makeshift office had received no less than seven visitors. All but two had questionable reasons for even being there, using such excuses as hand-delivering memos and requesting Holly's signature.

"There are countless other officers who could sign for this!" she snarled at last, frightening a poor gnome out into the hall again. Artemis raised an eyebrow.

"The LEP is swamped as it is," she said defensively, "Sightseers are annoying and a waste of time for everyone involved."

Artemis did not argue. He turned back to the computer screen, scanning the information displayed while saying, "And meanwhile, you're stuck with me."

"Yet again," Holly sighed.

There was another knock at the door, prompting a growl from the elf. "The wi-fi network is  _not_  down," she said pointedly.

The door opened anyway. "Captain Short," said the sprite as he entered, actually standing at attention and doing his best to keep his eyes from drifting toward the human's desk.

"You look ridiculous, Verbil," Holly responded. "You'd better not be here for a signature."

"Actually," his eyes darted again to Artemis and back, "Commander Kelp sent me. There's a human-fairy entanglement issue he wants you to sort out."

This, at least, got Artemis's full attention. "I thought I was only here to go over Foaly's security systems."

Perhaps it was the dim light of the boiler room, but he appeared to be mildly concerned. Holly allowed a grin. "You're with the LEP now, Fowl," she said, "We get assigned a situation, we take care of it."

"That sounds ominous," remarked the human as he returned his attention to the screen before him.

"Welcome to law enforcement," muttered Holly, her grin slipping. She waved one hand about the boiler room, tapping her desk for emphasis. "Human-fairy entanglement issue, Verbil? I thought we resolved it by placing me on babysitting duty."

"I thought we agreed that I did not need to be babysat," said Artemis acidly, manipulating a variable on the screen with one fingertip, his other hand drumming a pattern on his leg.

"A different, erm, issue?" squeaked the sprite with a nervous flutter of his wings. Suitably intimidated by the two occupants of the small 'office,' he spoke quickly. "It turns out there's this group of humans up in Norway that've fallen onto the map. Calling themselves 'hacktivists' - apparently online activism is some kinda human trend?"

Artemis shrugged, indifferent. "I've heard of it."

"Well, these guys have got their hands on some programs and code that the big guys upstairs doesn't think they could have come up with on their own. Got fairy fingerprints all over it, apparently, and as per Fowl protocol I need to get verification that -"

"Fowl protocol?"

Holly cringed. "You really think we've known you this long and not had a protocol in place?"

"Of course I knew the protocol existed. I'd merely have hoped that, given as I'm now on your payroll, said protocol had been discarded. And if you truly need verification, I can assure you I've got better ways to spend my time than revealing the People's secrets to your so-called 'hacktivists.' There, was that so hard?"

"Look," said Verbil, "All I know is that I was told to get confirmation, and then ask you to keep an eye out for any code or what have you that could have possibly slipped through the cracks. I don't know the tech stuff, I'm just the messenger, please don't shoot me."

"Shoot you?" Holly found herself smirking once more. "Don't worry. I already confiscated his gun."

-x-

"It's a fairly simple code, to be honest," Artemis admitted, looking up from his computer.

Holly started. She'd just gotten back into working on her reports and had believed Artemis would be wrapped up in his programming for quite some time.

"Don't tell Foaly, but I actually set the program to piggyback one of his own systems - a security flaw, actually, that I'll have to take up with him later, as anybody with an access code could make it work. Now that it's running, the only thing I have to do is wait. And, of course, continue to pick through the centaur's systems."

She set down her holobook. "You think it will find something?"

Artemis appeared miffed at her doubts. "Trust me, Holly. This is what I do. If there is any loose thread left behind by the hacktivists' fairy contact - and I have little doubt that there is - then my program will locate it. It's too convenient that Jones's access to satellite data surfaced at the same time as this affair. I would bet that the two security leaks are somehow related."

She rolled her eyes but didn't bother to question him any longer. "In that case, it's lunch break."

"Lunch break?"

"Come on, Mud Boy. Don't tell me you haven't heard of lunch."

-x-

"Artemis Fowl," said Holly with a growing sense of horror, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Fixing the coffee-maker," the human said. 'Fixing' was, to Holly's untrained eye, perhaps the exact opposite of the task he seemed to be engaged in. In the two minutes since she had turned her back on her friend, he had somehow managed to completely and systematically disassemble the formerly-functional machine. It now lay in dozens of pieces spread out across the table before Artemis, who sat with his hands folded and brow furrowed as he visualized how best to put it back together.

"Fowl," she said, feeling a headache already starting to set in above her right temple, "Look. In a police precinct, there are two things you do not mess with if you value your life. At any cost. Ever. The first isn't applicable to you, but the second is. The coffee supply, Fowl. You never, under any circumstances, mess with the coffee supply. So I'm going to ask you again: what do you think you're doing?"

"My answer hasn't changed, Holly," he said, finally looking up. "The machine wasn't running at full efficiency. I can't believe nobody here noticed that. It would have impacted the taste of the brew."

"And you really think anybody who works law enforcement actually cares how their sim-coffee tastes?"

"No need to sound quite so incredulous, Holly. Just because your experience does not lend itself to more discerning-"

"I don't care." She cut him. "Fowl. I really do not care. Just fix it. Put the coffee maker back together, put it back in the corner where you found it, and let it go."

She could have sworn the Mud Boy was pouting at her, if she did not already know that Artemis Fowl did not pout. Even so, he appeared to be ignoring her orders. As she watched, he picked up one of the pieces and began to pull it apart.

"Fowl. Listen to me. Put this back exactly how you found it and maybe we'll get out of this alive."

"I don't appreciate your exaggerations," Artemis muttered distractedly.

There was a clatter behind her. Holly whipped around to see Officer Kona in the doorway to the break room. Kona was what Holly might have described as the 'burly male elf type' - not that it showed at the moment, as he now had an aghast expression on his face and was leaning against the wall for support.

"The coffee maker," he choked. "Where did it go?"

Holly stood up, blocking the worst of the mess Artemis had made. "Repairs," she said brightly. "I believe there's one on the fourth floor."

Kona vanished out into the hall and Holly wheeled around again. "I swear, Fowl, if you don't -"

Artemis's phone chimed, and he twisted it about on his finger and brightened. "I was right," he announced, "My program has yielded results."

Holly glanced at the clock - it was nearing the time she knew most of the officers on this floor began their break. "Right," she decided. "Let's go check those results then."

"I dislike the idea of leaving my project on the table," Artemis objected. "Pieces might go missing."

Holly had a knack for navigating stressful situations. She prided herself on her ability to not choke under pressure, and knew full well how to keep a level head even when the stakes were high. Even so, she experienced multiple pangs of anxiety at leaving Artemis alone in the lunchroom with a broken coffee pot as she went to fetch the box that had, that morning, held the contents of her desk. It turned out that the only thought more alarming than the idea of Artemis breaking the coffee machine was the idea of him being unable to reassemble it.

She half-expected to return to find a bloodbath, and could not help a sigh of relief at finding the human exactly where she had left him when she eventually returned, gripping the plastic close.

"I do have some tact," he hissed as he poked his head around the corner five minutes later, checking to be sure the coast was clear. Holly had insisted on carrying the boxed machine herself, not trusting her clumsy friend to not trip at a critical moment. This trip through the office was a stealth mission. "I merely told them that it's being repaired," Artemis continued, "and there's a functional machine on the fourth floor. Though I am starting to believe that you were correct about the importance of sim-coffee to this organization. Everybody seemed quite distressed about having to travel several flights of stairs to find a functional -"

"What do you mean everybody?" she whispered in reply, nudging him with her foot to spur him to check the next corner.

"Well -" began Artemis, gesturing to her to follow. "As you so kindly pointed out earlier, most officers tend to take lunch breaks around the time generally considered suitable for lunch."

"Don't you dare get sarcastic with me, Mud Boy," she muttered, closing the boiler-room door behind them with one hand while the other balanced the box against her knee. Artemis took it from her once more, retreating with it back to his desk.

"Sarcasm? Me? Holly, I'm wounded."

"And we are leaving. If you thought the rubberneckers were bad before, you clearly haven't seen the outpouring of concern that usually follows a broken coffee pot. Field trip time."

"I suppose we could talk to Mulch," said Artemis, checking his computer screen. "I've got a name and address for the machine that uncovered the security issue. One Caltrop Chlorella. He's got a record, though it's mostly for petty crime."

"Then Mulch has probably heard of him," said Holly. "We're leaving. And for Frond's sake, hide that box before somebody sees it."

-x-

The plaque on the door read Diggums & Day Detective Agency in gold lettering. Holly knocked, side-eying Artemis as he rubbed a finger over the lettering. He said nothing, and the door swung open before she could ask.

The pixie that greeted them scowled but backed up with a reluctant, "Come in."

"Doodah," Holly said curtly, sliding past him into the office.

"Greetings," Artemis added, and followed her lead.

The office was small and decorated in an odd style of mismatched figurines and framed certificates for various awards - most of which, Artemis was sure, were completely fictitious. The ceiling was also quite low; he'd been walking with a stoop ever since leaving the stairwell.

"Mulch is through there," Doodah said, waving a hand to the back office. Holly had already guessed as much.

Sure enough, the dwarf was there, his feet resting on his desk and a mess of chocolate bar wrappers on the floor. He jumped up when the door opened, wiping his face hastily and doing his best to kick the wrappers out of sight.

"Holly!" he said brightly.

"I am not asking where you got that chocolate," Holly said, although her voice made it clear she had a pretty good idea. Chocolate, while not illegal in the fairy cities, had a high import tax. The chocolate smuggling had gotten to be a large problem in recent years - and Mulch Diggums was just the sort of dwarf to make use of his underworld connections to gain a tasty snack.

"It's not what you think," the dwarf said unconvincingly, and then noticed the human behind her. "Artemis! Looking good for a cl -"

"Gold lettering made from real gold?" Artemis interrupted hastily, "Really." He doubted the dwarf would have permitted surveillance upon his offices, but it was always better to be safe. After all, while chocolate may have been legal, cloning definitely was not.

Mulch pretended not to have heard. "What brings such fine friends to my humble - and completely legal - business? The grapevine said you'd be in town," he said with a nod to Artemis. "Really, Arty, bad things seem to happen every time you step foot in America."

"That incident was supposed to have been classified," replied Artemis, looking to Holly for confirmation.

"Definitely classified," said Holly. "But I'm not asking about that one, either."

"I am," said Artemis. "How many security breaches does Foaly have?" He sounded incredulous, so Holly changed the subject of conversation. The last thing any of them needed was Artemis getting started on the topic of Foaly making technical mistakes.

"Mulch, we need to know more about a water sprite named Chlorella. First name, Caltrop. Apparently he's been involved in passing intel on to humans. Was hoping you'd have heard of him."

"And what's in it for me if I talk to you? After all, if you two are both working under the LEP, that makes this a formal consult, and I am entitled to compensation." The dwarf beamed. "Law enforcement, Artemis? I didn't see that one coming."

"Neither did my parents. And in terms of motivation, well." Artemis knelt to pick up a single chocolate wrapper from the carpet, holding it pinched between his thumb and forefinger with his nose crinkled in vague distaste. "Captain Short may not be willing to ask about that chocolate but I assure you I could, based on the unique chemical composition of the paint on this wrapper, trace it back to the factory where it was manufactured. From there, I could find the precise shipment that was diverted, attain a time frame, match shipping records, and uncover the exact smuggling port that allowed this particular bar of chocolate into the city." He folded the foil carefully, and tucked it inside his breast pocket for further analysis. "I would not incriminate you, of course, but I am fairly positive that shutting down that particular access route would have a predictable impact on the price of the commodities it used to allow into the city. If the only allure of smuggled chocolate is the price, I'm afraid an entire industry could collapse."

Mulch sighed. "It's a good thing we're friends, or I would be very insulted that you would think I'd be involved in anything so low as chocolate smuggling."

Human and elf exchanged a glance. Neither of them needed to speak. The dwarf conceded defeat, cracking his knuckles as he spoke.

"Look, Chlorella's small fry. Ran into the guy once before. He's not the type to be behind anything big. All talk, no show."

"We've got enough evidence to believe otherwise," said Holly. "Any idea where we would find him?"

"Sure. Just show up at his house. Doubt Chlorella's ever made a contingency plan in his life - calls himself an anarchist, but I'm pretty sure his housepets have a better understanding of the word than he does. You shouldn't have any trouble with him."

-x-

"So, we should expect to have trouble with Chlorella," Artemis said as they hit the sidewalk once more. Holly grinned.

"See? You're learning."

-x-

The flat of one Caltrop Chlorella was located in a building complex only a few blocks away from the detective agency. Holly wasted no time in scrolling through the list of flat numbers at the front door before cutting across the lobby to the stairwell.

"Again?" complained Artemis, "Isn't there a lift?"

The building was old and in need of repairs, the hallway decorated in a garish green that Holly assured Artemis had been the highest fashion a few decades back. And then they had found Chlorella's flat - second from the end - and Holly was pounding on the door.

It opened a crack, barely enough to show the face of a water sprite.

"Caltrop Chlorella?" Artemis asked. The water sprite's eyes widened at the sight of a human, and he nodded hastily.

"LEP business," Holly stated, flashing her acorns, "We'd like to ask you some questions please."

Chlorella's eyes flicked uncertainly between the two of them. He rubbed his eyes, and then slowly opened the door wider. Noticing Artemis's interest in the water tube he wore over his gills, Chlorella said defensively, "It's an impairment, okay?" The water bubbled as he spoke.

"Intriguing," Artemis said, and Holly shot him a glance to shut up.

The water sprite led them further into the flat. Artemis cast his eyes around in order to get a feel for the character of their suspect. The sense he got was mostly of electronics and water - interesting indeed, as he often would conclude that the two did not mix. Then again, for an individual who required water to breathe, the choice to live on dry land suggested a predisposition towards contradictions. An unwillingness to accept the authority of his own body, let alone that of the law. Artemis exhaled, knowing instinctively that they were standing in the right apartment.

Holly had already begun the questioning. "Mister Chlorella, have you ever been in contact with an human online activist group?"

Chlorella turned around and regarded them cooly. "Who?"

"Have you been in contact with any humans recently?"

The water sprite raised an eyebrow to the human standing in the room at that moment.

Feeling out of place, Artemis straightened his tie and turned away to glance over the computer equipment lined up along the wall. "This is impressive," he said, and caught sight of the empty birdcage on the corner of the desk. "A canary, I assume? Judging by the feathers and food supply, of course. Recently deceased?"

When he turned around, Chlorella had gone pale. "She's not in the cage?"

"Enough with the bird," cut in an exasperated Holly. "Answer my first question, please, or do I need to pull you in for questioning?"

That was when the canary screamed her battle cry.

Perhaps in hindsight, they would agree that "battle cry" was a bit of a misnomer. It really was more of a shrill twittering than anything else. For all intents and purposes, however, as far as war cries went, it did get the point across.

Artemis didn't have time to react before the bird had latched her claws into his hair.

"No! Not Lucia!" cried Caltrop, launching himself at Holly, who had raised and aimed her gun in the time it took Artemis to cry out and hit himself in the back of the head. Sprite and elf hit the floor in a tangle of limbs and weaponry, swearing colorfully at each other. Her shot went wide, but it had the desired effect as the bird immediately abandoned her attack on Artemis, dive bombing the two fairies on the ground.

In the interests of absolute honesty, it was not his reflexes that kept Artemis from being stunned. His brain always had worked more quickly than his body, and in the time it took the plasma shot to rebound around the room he had already calculated the angle of refraction as it ricocheted off a mirror, through one fish tank to another, off a polished metal sculpture, and towards his head. He ducked.

Holly's vision was a blur of feathers and gills. She lashed out, elbowing the sprite in the stomach and rolling to the side, clamping her hands over the back of her neck to protect them from the canary's vicious beak. "Artemis!" she yelped. "Do something!"

The nearest object was the birdcage, and so Artemis's hand closed upon it. Predictably, his aim was bad, and an attempt to swat the bird off Holly connected with Caltrop's nose, sending the poor sprite sprawling. Caltrop began to choke as the tubes around his gills bubbled furiously, and the canary took notice, turning again on Artemis. The human scrambled backwards, raising his hands defensively and letting the empty cage clatter to his feet. Holly swore, pushed herself up on her elbows, and shot at the bird again. Caltrop, choking on his misaligned air tube, chose that moment to kick out in his distress and the blow pushed Holly's aim to the side. Artemis ducked once more as the bird issued a truly majestic screech and whirled upon Holly again.

Seeing that the attacking canary was distracted, Artemis crawled to where Caltrop was struggling to breathe. Even as unfamiliar with the device as he was, it was a simple matter to determine how the breathing tubes should be attached to Caltrop's gills, and adjust them to restore the sprite's airflow. Caltrop sagged in relief, choking out a desperate plea.

"Lucia, stop!" he blubbered. The canary paid no heed. Finally, Holly rolled onto her back and managed to get a clear shot. The bird, which had been wheeling overhead and crowing triumphantly, fell abruptly out of the sky. It landed on Artemis, who reflexively shot his arm out away from it (later, he would deny actually "flailing"), sending the unconscious bird soaring across the room.

It landed in the fish tank with a rather unimpressive splash. Silence fell for a moment.

"Is...everybody okay?"

"Yes."

"I think so."

A pause. Artemis was out of breath, pressing one hand to the bloody claw marks on the back of his head; Caltrop's breathing tubes still bubbled furiously as his gills flapped, indignant.

"D'Arvit, we can't let the bird drown." Holly crossed the room to dig it out of the fish tank, closing her thumb and forefinger around one wing.

"Her name is Lucia," grumbled the sprite. "And after that, I think -"

"I don't want the death of a household canary on my conscience," said Artemis, picking up the dented birdcage from where it had rolled behind a desk. Reluctantly, he held the door open as Holly deposited the unconscious bird inside. It landed on the floor of the cage with a squelching sound, absolutely drenched.

"Caltrop Chlorella," said Holly as Artemis made some modifications to the cage's hinge to avert any further escape attempts from the sodden pet, "You are under arrest."

"What did I do?" The water sprite's eyes widened.

"Well, suspected contact with humans notwithstanding, domesticated birds are illegal in Haven. For obvious reasons. As is attacking a LEP operative, also for -"

"But the human is the only one bleeding!" protested the sprite, pointing a quivering finger to Artemis. He sighed, reluctantly removing one hand from the birdcage to reach for his pocket and remove his badge. He displayed it only for as long as it took Caltrop to read the text, and then returned his full attention to Lucia's unconscious, feathery form.

The canary gave a feeble, half-conscious chirp. Caltrop turned his head in alarm, and Holly took the opportunity to handcuff him.

-x-

They returned to Police Plaza half an hour later, Holly leading a handcuffed Caltrop while Artemis carried Lucia's birdcage as gingerly as possible.

Nobody believed them about the canary until, half an hour later, Lucia awakened. Holly and Artemis, waiting outside Chlorella's interrogation room on the other side of the building, knew the moment somebody decided to let the bird out of the cage. The terrified screams really did carry.

"What will be done with Lucia?" asked Artemis, his hands folded in his lap. Holly had already healed the worst of the scratches, but the magic had missed a smaller one along the back of his hand; he ran a thumb along it as he spoke.

"Probably, she'll be confiscated and they'll just send her to live in a colony of them in the wild. Can't see anybody here wanting to keep her."

"Good. She's half-feral already." Artemis frowned, listening to the chaos unfold.

Holly tilted her head, incredulous. " _Half_? Artemis, I'm starting to worry about you. First the lemur thing, then the crickets, and now canaries. Is there any sort of small animal that does not want to kill you?"

By way of response, he reached over and plucked yet another feather from her hair.

-x-

It turned out that wildlife was not the only local faction that wanted to kill Artemis Fowl. By the time Caltrop Chlorella had confessed to contact with the human hackers, a crowd had formed around the door to the boiler room. A very distressed crowd.

"You said the coffee pot just needed repairs, but it's actually dead!" wailed an elf, who stood in the doorway. Holly nudged him - none too gently - out of the way on her path to their desks, hissing over her shoulder at Artemis.

"I thought I told you to hide that box!"

-x-

"I take it back," Artemis said later, quietly. "You were entirely right about the coffee." He looked down to the plastic box of machine parts with a frown. It had been a struggle to talk the officers out of holding a proper wake for the contraption, and it really had seemed as if they were mourning the loss of an old friend.

They had stayed late at the "office" as Artemis got his first true taste of bureaucracy. For a single encounter with a violent household pet, the requisite paperwork would take most of the night if they worked straight through. He was the faster typist and agreed to shoulder the vast majority of it - or at least, that was what Holly assumed he was doing.

Close to midnight, he announced the completion of an algorithm to fill out the remaining forms for them. The elf considered objecting, but Artemis seemed proud of himself, there  _was_  an awful lot of work left to be done, and she was positive the smell of canary would never wash out of her hair.

"You've been a bad influence on me," she muttered as she stood behind the human's chair and watched the paperwork fill itself out.

"You already know that the influence has been mutual," he said, quirking half a smile at the elf before returning his attention to the screen. The next few minutes passed in silence as they watched form after form whip by. Occasionally Artemis would hit a key to confirm an especially obstinate sequence of data; for the most part, they simply watched the program run.

"I don't need to tell you that nobody can know that this code exists?" Holly asked. Artemis nodded in confirmation as the screen beeped twice.

"Paperwork complete," it announced in a smug voice.

"I'll take our secrets to my grave," he said, solemnly, before adding, "Again."

-x-

It was early the next morning when Artemis finally logged off the computer and began packing up his tools. Holly blinked at him blearily, her head resting on her arms.

"Good nap?" Artemis asked, slipping a pair of pliers in the side pocket of his briefcase. Holly wondered why he'd even pulled them out if all he'd been doing was patching up code relating to the last major breach in Foaly's systems.

"I wasn't asleep," Holly said, sitting upright. Her neck cracked with the movement.

Artemis didn't bother to argue. "I believe Foaly's system is now secure," he told her, "although I will keep an eye on the situation from home."

"Doesn't that count as a security breach?"

"Only if I'm no longer with the LEP." As if the thought had reminded him of something, he felt in his pocket and withdrew his acorn badge. "Actually, if I'm leaving, I suppose it is time to return this."

Holly didn't take it. "Don't give that to me - I think Commander Kelp was serious when he threatened to keep you as a consultant indefinitely. We actually did the paperwork. Nobody actually does the paperwork. Besides, with your coin gone…"

Artemis raised a hand to his neck. "Yes," he said, "I should do something about that."

Holly pretended not to hear.

-x-

Holly had just closed the door to the boiler room behind her when a loud wail sounded from down the hall. There was barely time to recognize the furious twittering of a bird before something yellow darted around the corner.

"Duck!" Artemis yelped just as Holly pushed him back against the wall.

The canary shot by in a blur, triumphantly crowing her escape as she went. Clearly, Lucia was no longer interested in captivity. Barely a half-minute later, three frantic officers rounded the corner in a jumble, armed with nets and birdseed. "Where did she go?" shouted one of them. Holly and Artemis pointed in unison, silently, and watched the trio pass. The sounds of both bird and her pursuers faded in the distance, and still they waited.

"How much of that is our problem?" Artemis finally asked.

Holly shook her head, pushing back from the wall and turning to make her way briskly towards the lift. "None of it. Chlorella confessed to human contact, which means the matter now goes over our heads. You fixed the security breach, so that's not an issue anymore. And now that Lucia's been taken into official custody, the entire mess is officially out of our hands."

"Good."

The break room was located at the end of the hall near the lifts. Holly decided that it might be better to hurry past and avoid any accusations regarding deceased coffee machines. Instead, Artemis started to slow down as they reached the doorway.

"It's as if you want there to be a riot," Holly hissed, trying to propel her friend away from impending disaster.

Unfortunately, he had the opposite idea, stopping dead in front of the doorway. The room was almost overflowing with officers standing by the counter and passing around cups. Holly did a double take. Cups of coffee?

"It's alive!" one of the officers shouted gleefully when he spotted Holly. "The coffee machine is fixed and it tastes  _even better._ "

"What." It didn't come out as a question.

"I fixed it," Artemis said, adjusting his sleeve. "A peace offering." She didn't need to look to know that he was smirking.

"When did you -"

"You took a nap."

"For all of ten minutes!"

"Your point?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who were afraid this was going to turn into another genius vs genius fic... here's a canary! PEACE OUT. -Winged
> 
> But for real, we're sorry about the canary. This episode's antagonist is a bird, it is entirely my fault, and this should give you some idea what to expect from this fic in the future. -Freud
> 
> And if it makes you feel any better, we do actually have a plan for where this thing is going. Yes, there are OCs involved. As mentioned in our last A/N, we're writing this fic as though it were a television show complete with an entire cast of characters, some old, others new. Thank you to everyone who has read the first two chapters - you are fantastic, and we hope you enjoy what's still to come! -Winged


	3. Taps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 1.03: Artemis sets out to retrieve his fairy coin with Mulch's help. The team gets their first intern.

**One Year Ago, Approximately**

The room hummed with the energy of the support system, the ebb and flow of life passing through wires lit only by the green-tinted monitor. The chrysalis was still, no sign of consciousness beneath its fogged glass cover, nothing but the pale, expressionless face that stared upward like the recently deceased.

Holly looked down on that face, her throat tight and her hands clenched. Behind her, Foaly was fiddling with the controls, adjusting atmospheric conditions inside the chrysalis required for the clone's current stage of growth. Holly had not asked for a technical explanation and for once, Foaly had not offered one. Instead, there was silence between them - silence save for the reassuring hum of the machine and their own steady breathing.

The clone twitched. It wasn't the first time this had happened and Holly was not surprised by it. She raised a hand, pressing it against the glass. Hesitated, and then lifted a finger to tap a pattern.

Something shifted, thudded against the walls of the chrysalis. A hand slid to meet her own, separated only by the thick glass plate. Thick, human fingers beat out a hesitant, uneven mimicry of the rhythm she provided.

_Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap._  Two, and then three. Or a set of five. Numbers that Artemis had always felt comfortable with. No fours, or multiples thereof. Just in case.

She lifted her hand to watch the clone's clumsy movements.  _Tap…tatap. Tap - tap… thud._

Behind her, Foaly dropped a wire and cursed to himself as he scrambled to find it. Holly made a fist, felt the tug of her nails against her skin. Stared down at sightless blue eyes. Lowered her hand to the glass again.

_Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap._

_Tap…tap-tap. Tap. Tatap._

_Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap._

_Tap-tap-tap…tap._

_Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap._

-x-

**Present Day**

"Is this some type of Mud Man prank? Because I really don't understand."

At the sound of Foaly's whining, Holly glanced up, her hand tightening reflexively. A quick glance around the shuttle bay revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Two gnomes were positioned near the doors, periodically glancing up from their clipboards to gawk at the human on the platform, but otherwise seemingly unthreatening. There was no one else in sight.

Artemis was just as confused. "What Mud Man prank?"

"Oh, for Frond's sake," Foaly moaned. "The tapping. You're doing that on purpose, right?"

Elf and human exchanged a frown. "I don't hear anything," Artemis responded.

One of the gnomes had dropped his stylus. The platform must have had a slight slope, as the writing instrument rolled several feet before he caught up with it. Again, harmless enough. Holly glared at him anyway. Hand hovering over her neutrino, she hissed, "Please tell me you're being paranoid, Foaly."

Foaly stamped his hoof against the floor in a pattern of five and then stared at the others expectantly. Nobody moved.

"Do you need some sleep, Foaly?" Holly asked, dropping her hand from the neutrino. She looked up at the electronic screen overhead, which announced that the shuttle had still not arrived. She drummed her fingers against her leg impatiently.

The centaur looked between the two of them, utterly baffled. "You weren't... doing that... on purpose?" He sounded lost.

"It might be easier to ascertain if you would actually explain the situation," Artemis put in. His hand twitched.

"You  _are_  doing that on purpose!" Foaly exclaimed and then, when he was still met with two blank stares, whinnied in frustration. "The tapping! You're tapping! Holly - oh, just - tap your fingers."

"Is now really the time for an improvisational musical number?" Artemis asked, but Holly had known Foaly long enough to know when it was better to simply humour him. She beat a distinct pattern against her neutrino. At once, Foaly switched his glare to Artemis, whose fingers were twitching against the handle of his briefcase - a perfect echo of Holly's pattern.

This realization was met with perfect silence as everyone stared at the genius's hand. Holly drummed another pattern, again matched perfectly by Artemis. Again, more complex this time - and again, an exact replica.

"Now I know you're not doing that on purpose," Foaly muttered. "Your sense of rhythm's nowhere near that good."

Artemis set his briefcase down at his feet and lifted his hand in front of his face to study it. "My sense of timing is fine," he said, "This, however, is not."

Foaly scratched at his chin. "Hmm."

"Indeed," replied Artemis, still studying his hand. His eyes narrowed for a moment, and just as quickly relaxed. "That does make sense."

"Yes," agreed Foaly, catching on immediately.

"You're doing that on purpose," grumbled Holly. "I hate to be the one to ask, but could you explain for everyone with normal IQ's exactly what's going on?"

Artemis lowered his voice. "Well, I would not wish to explain it to the entire room." He cast a glance over at the hapless gnomes, who were now attempting to retrieve the errant stylus from a crack in the floor.

"Correction. Do I _want_  to know what's going on?"

"It's because Artemis is a clone!" declared Foaly, only to be met with a hiss from Holly.

"Could you possibly announce that any louder? And what on earth does that have to do with -"

"The tapping," Artemis interrupted. "You tapped on the chrysalis." He did not need to look for confirmation, though her face slipped all the same.

"What does that have to do with - oh. Oh, no. Are you saying that I - I  _trained_  you?"

"Hardly.  _Trained_  implies some conscious shaping towards a predetermined response. What you did was inadvertently trigger a reflex. I'd imagine it'd have otherwise been latent, as  _I'm_ certainly not conscious of it," said Artemis, for a moment unsure if he should be intrigued or displeased. He settled for a mixture of both. "I admit that this would be a fascinating case study if it weren't my hand."

"Let me try?" suggested Foaly eagerly. The centaur did not wait for permission, knowing it would not be forthcoming. Instead, he rapped on his coffee mug several times, and peered up at his friends with gleeful anticipation.

Nobody moved.

Almost gingerly, Holly tapped once more. Artemis's finger twitched.

"Well, that got awkward fast."

They parted ways quickly, Artemis visibly relieved when the screen updated to show the arrival of his shuttle. Picking up his briefcase and saying goodbye with a single curt nod, Artemis departed, and Holly turned to leave.

"Oi, heads up!"

The gnome's stylus hit her square in the forehead, and she caught it without blinking. With a twitch of her fingers, the implement snapped clean in two.

-x-

The shuttle ride was quiet, as was the trip back to Police Plaza. It was almost as though each believed they had reached the end of the matter.

They were almost correct. For eighteen hours, it was.

-x-

"Artemis! What do you know about interns?" Holly sounded frantic on the other end of the line and Artemis set down his tea, trying to more accurately gauge the situation. "Holly Short" and "frantic" were, in general, two concepts that did not find themselves in proximity. If he did not know his friend so well, he would have been worried. Fortunately, Holly tended to remain level-headed in truly dangerous situations, and so it was unlikely that the fraught tone of her voice was the result of any impending catastrophe. He decided to proceed from that assumption and spoke quickly, yet calmly.

"Generally, an intern is an employee who has had no former job experience and thus requires on-the-job training. Why are you asking?" She was silent. "Your lack of response is not encouraging," he noted.

"Neither is the intern staring at me like I'm his mother," Holly said dryly. It was a slight mistruth: she had managed to take refuge behind a desk for long enough to make the phone call, and so was currently positioned out of the intern's line of sight. Not that she expected that to last for long, as the hapless gnome had already circled the floor several times in search of her. She was positive he had only bypassed the boiler room because he had not yet realized it served as an office space.

"Please tell me this is an intern in the department you transferred back into," he said, frowning.

"That's cute, pretending you don't know what's going on. Start talking, Mud Boy." Holly peered out from around the desk. The intern hadn't moved, and she ducked back down out of sight.

"I really have no idea what you mean."

"Then the fact that I still attached to LEPfoul is news to you? My transfer out got declined, an intern caught me in the lobby this morning and said he was now part of the department, and you had no idea this was coming? Why don't I believe that?"

"I may have suspected this could happen, but -"

"Fowl! We have an intern now! 'Suspected' isn't good enough - what do I do with him?" she hissed. Across the room, the intern lifted his head at the sound and began to make his way to the desk. Holly swore under her breath. "This conversation isn't over."

The line went dead before Artemis could offer any advice. It was just as well, he supposed, as in this particular situation he wasn't entirely sure what suggestions to make. Interns were new territory for them both and, despite himself, his mouth twisted in a half-smirk. "The LEP is placing us in charge of staff," he announced, picking up his tea once more as the plane began to descend.

"A terrifying idea." Butler finished the thought, his brow furrowed in concern. "Will Holly be alright?"

"Oh, I'm sure she'll manage." A pause. "That was a pun, by the way."

"You really do pick your moments."

-x-

"Interesting," muttered Artemis to himself, studying the security system console.

"Well, that's never a good sign," observed Mulch, although he was too busy plucking a beetle from his beard to act concerned.

Butler grunted his agreement through the line. "Usually that's an awful sign. What are we looking at?"

Artemis had pulled open a panel to inspect the box's innards. "It isn't often I come across a system this advanced," he explained. "Especially not since the Crash. It makes Chicago look like child's play."

"Does this mean I need to get into this house the old-fashioned way? Not that I mind, of course," said Mulch, crushing the beetle between his thumb and forefinger. "You know all you have to do is ask."

Artemis spared a moment to glower. "I can reroute it. I simply need a moment."

"I'll give you two," said the dwarf generously.

Butler wasn't satisfied. "The old fashioned way is probably safer."

"And more likely to run into sewage." Artemis prodded one last wire and closed the panel before motioning to the door. "Your turn."

The dwarf brushed his hands off on his trousers and ran up the steps to the door. As he worked, Artemis took the liberty of sending a quick email.

-x-

**OUTBOX:**

Foaly;

You would probably be interested to know that Becquerel Jones has a surprisingly advanced security system.

-x-

It didn't even take an entire minute for the reply to come, a hiss of static over their earpieces announcing Foaly's entry to the conversation.

"What do you  _mean_  you're in Denver again?!"

"Twenty-eight point seven seconds," Artemis noted. "I'm flattered."

"And in Denver. How - no, wait - why?! It hasn't even been a day, and you're back in Denver? Don't humans your age still need naps? You've got to be - what, twenty still, right?"

"Have I ever struck you as the type to need a nap? And for your information, most humans outgrow naptime by the time they're six years old."

By this time, Mulch had stepped back from the door. He studied his handiwork carefully, gave a nod of pride, and led Artemis around the corner of the house. They crouched in the foliage of the garden, Artemis brushing twigs off the arm of his suit while the dwarf peeked around the wall once more.

"All right," he declared, "let 'er rip!"

"Is that  _Mulch?"_  Foaly asked, aghast at the thought. And then, "Let  _what_  rip?!"

A second later, the lines crackled with the sound of the detonation as, two rooftops away, Butler activated the trigger.

" _Was that an actual explosion?!"_

-x-

**INBOX:**

Arty;

The intern is STILL HERE.

\- Holly

-x-

"Relax, centaur," said Butler. "I had the detonator."

"How is that supposed to make me relax? You're not only in Denver, you're  _blowing things up in Denver_!"

-x-

**INBOX:**

Arty;

For your information, the intern HASN'T LEFT YET.

\- Holly

-x-

The smoke had barely begun to dissipate before a window on the second floor popped open. Butler watched through the binoculars as a gangly teen pulled himself out onto the roof. There was a tree close to the corner that Butler assumed the boy would make for but Becquerel had no intentions of going that far. Instead, he slid down the roof at an angle until his feet touched the eavestrough halfway along the house. He hooked his hands over the rim of the gutter and dropped down over the edge, swinging just enough to catch hold of the first floor's window ledge. A moment later, he was on the ground.

"He's heading towards the front," Butler relayed, and two figures appeared briefly at the other end of the house. They disappeared almost immediately into the smoke as they dashed inside.

"I don't know why you brought me along," Mulch was complaining. "This is way too easy. No fun at all."

"Why  _did_  you bring him along?" Foaly huffed belowground. "And  _why are you even there?"_

-x-

**INBOX:**

Arty;

Coffee: 1

Intern: 0

WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO MAKE COFFEE?

-H

-x-

Artemis ignored yet another email notification as he led Mulch up the staircase.

"The security system is too advanced," he explained along the way. "After the Crash, technological advancements came to a stand-still as everyone focused on repairing the damage. Most systems were brought back online, but there's been relatively little innovation since. If I didn't know better, I'd theorize most people were concerned over triggering another collapse."

"So you broke into Jones' house," said Foaly. "You noticed the security system so you broke into his house. I'd be surprised if that didn't sound  _exactly_ like something you would do."

"Not exactly. My point is, I would like to know where he got those blueprints from. Based on what I saw of his lab, it's doubtful he came up with that particular wiring configuration by himself. It's much too organized - he's smart, but his work is chaotic."

"Can I be blamed for this? Is there any possible way I can be blamed for this?" Foaly was starting to panic. In fairness to him, it had been a long week - his budget had already been cut once, and this seemed to be rapidly snowballing towards another patented Fowl situation.

"Relax, Foaly," said Mulch. The dwarf sauntered along behind Artemis, hands in his pockets. "You're safe in your comm booth."

"Here," said the Irish genius, gesturing across the lab to the safe. "Jones keeps his laptop in here."

The dwarf immediately began to crack the mechanisms, leaving Artemis free to examine the rest of the room. A thin haze of smoke drifted up the stairs, already tainting the air. Artemis crossed to Becquerel's workbench, and opened a drawer.

"Why are you going after Jones' laptop? Fowl, the LEP already agreed to send a team to clean this mess up, what are you doing in Denver?"

"You keep asking that," mused Artemis.

" _Because you are not answering me!"_

-x-

**INBOX:**

Artemis;

Coffee update: I stand corrected. THE COFFEE WAS ALREADY BREWED.

WHO DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO POUR A CUP OF COFFEE? EVEN  **YOU**  KNOW HOW TO POUR A CUP OF COFFEE!

-x-

"Now this is more like it," Mulch said blissfully, stroking the door of the safe once more before tugging on the handle. It swung open easily, and Mulch turned to beam at his partner in crime. "We should do this more often, you know. You, me, a complicated security system... what more could a criminal dwarf want?"

"I heard that," grumbled Foaly.

"You were supposed to," responded the dwarf. "So, Artemis, am I free to go exploring now? A house like this has gotta have at least one more -  _what are you doing with that?"_

Foaly remembered to panic.  _"What is who doing with what?"_

Artemis raised both hands in surrender, effectively pointing Becquerel's dart gun to the roof. "I only wanted to know the dosage. For scientific reasons."

"Please tell me you are nowhere near that tranquilizer," came Butler's voice on the other end.

"I'm nowhere near that tranquilizer," said Artemis. Mulch coughed.

-x-

**INBOX:**

Artemis;

If you're so smart, why don't you come up with a way to SCARE OFF THE INTERN?

-x-

The contents of the safe were few. Becquerel's laptop sat atop a pile of printouts, and several small gadgets lined the walls, set carefully on shelves. For all the chaos throughout the rest of the lab, the teenager did seem to know how to keep important things safe. Artemis shook his head. "That's not right. Why isn't it here?" he muttered. "He'd have to have kept it. There is no way he didn't keep it."

"He evacuated the house and took his laptop with him?" said an incredulous Butler. Artemis shook his head.

"No, I'm not looking for the laptop. The laptop is here."

"What do you mean you're not going for the laptop?" By now, 'panic' was becoming almost tiring.

"I mean -" hissed Artemis, only to stop at the sound of something shifting on the floor below them. Mulch set a finger to his lips, and turned to the stairs.

"I'll handle this," the dwarf whispered, his eyes aglow in the smoke. "You just sit tight."

-x-

**INBOX:**

Fowl;

I KNOW YOU ARE READING THESE. INTERN PROBLEM. FIX IT. NOW.

-x-

The fire alarm was still blaring overhead as Bec crept along the hall, squinting through the haze for any sign of intruders. His lab would be the target, he knew; while he was mildly caught off guard by how soon the break-in occurred after his house had been cased, he couldn't say that he was completely surprised. It had been an easy enough detour to route around the back of the house and avoid any potential surveillance of his movements - after all, this  _was_  his neighborhood, and he knew it like the back of his hand.

There was a figure near the steps to his lab. Bec took another careful step forward before realizing that the person was not sitting on the bottom step, but standing beside it and incredibly short.

Curiosity won out over caution. "Hey," he blurted.

The squat figure turned his head. "Whoa," he said, "Nothing to see here."

"I know what you are," Bec said, and took another step closer. "You're a dwarf."

"Give the mud boy a prize," was the muttered response, followed with, "No,  _you_  shut up. And I am."

He was clearly communicating with someone, which meant taking anyone else by surprise was now out of the question. The hallway was mostly empty with no useful architecture, and he'd left his dart gun in his lab. No help there, either. Bec did have a height advantage, though, and he knew that had to count for something. Time to act, and quickly - the dwarf was already turning around, probably to dash back up the stairs.

"Your trousers are hanging open," Bec observed, his smirk evident from his tone of voice.

Safe in his comm booth, Foaly cringed.

-x-

**INBOX:**

DO YOU THINK I AM KIDDING?

-x-

Artemis looked up at the sound of the blast.

-x-

**INBOX:**

THAT WAS A RHETORICAL QUESTION. YOU HAVE KNOWN ME LONG ENOUGH TO KNOW THAT I AM NOT KIDDING. FOWL - FIX IT!

-x-

He and Mulch stood over the groaning teenager, just far enough to be out of reach should he be faking. The dwarf was buttoning up his trousers, head tipped as he studied his victim.

"He's not faking," reassured Artemis with a wrinkled nose. His expression quickly shifted. "Oh, there is is."

"Let me get this straight - we did all of this so you could get a piece of jewellery back?" The dwarf was incredulous, and Artemis merely shrugged as he crouched beside the other genius.

"He was wearing it," said Artemis with a mild expression of distaste. The gold coin, a hole shot through the center, hung on a metal chain around Becquerel's neck. Artemis quickly pried open a link in the chain to free the pendant, cradling it in his hand. It felt good to have it back.

"Jewelry?" questioned Foaly. "I didn't know you wore - oh. Oh no. I knew that coin would come back to haunt me. I told Holly as much, years back, and she didn't listen. Oh, no."

"Artemis, you told me this was about the laptop." Butler sounded displeased.

"Don't worry, big man, we got that too!" piped up Mulch, shoving his hands back in his pockets.

Butler held back a growl. "Then if you've got both, I suggest you get out before the fire trucks pull up. I can hear them already."

Artemis was about to comply when he saw Bec's eyes flicker. "Friendly warning," he said, still crouched beside Becquerel, "Stay back. You don't know what you're dealing with. Information does go both ways, so allow me to be honest with you now - what you've found is dangerous. It won't save your family, only get you killed. Believe that, if you believe nothing else. We would not harm you over this, but the next time you cross paths with me, circumstances may not be so kind. Understood?"

"We're . . . not . . . friends," groaned Becquerel Jones into the carpet.

Foaly pulled a face at his computer screen. In the handbook given to LEP recruits upon their first day with the force, it was written to always resist the urge to give that speech. Telling a human they did not know what they were dealing with inevitably led to that human becoming even more driven to find out.

Holly had never read that handbook, and now apparently Artemis had decided to ignore it.

Come to think of it, the centaur mused, they might have been the reason that segment was in the handbook in the first place.

-x-

**OUTBOX:**

Holly;

Apologies, I was busy. Are you still dealing with the intern?

-Artemis

**INBOX:**

YES. CALL ME.

-H

-x-

"You know, Fowl, I think you may have a point about Jones's security system," said Foaly. "The circuit casings are unusually advanced for humans."

"Of course I have a point," remarked the human, looking up from his inbox. The entire group had relocated to a safe point, several blocks away. In the distance, they could still hear the sirens. "Have you found anything useful yet?"

"Possibly. I'm looking at these now, and if I didn't know better, I'd almost suspect they were fairy in origin. Too delicate, given how humans have been lately. Far too advanced. You're sure you didn't -"

"They're not mine. You've seen the inside of Fowl manor's security often enough to know how my systems look," confirmed Artemis.

"Right. Which means..."

"Didn't the LEP  _just_  have Artemis fix a security breach?" said Butler, carefully studying his young charge. "If satellite numbers got through to Jones, isn't it possible that other information was passed along?"

Back in his communications booth, the centaur blanched. "D'Arvit! I thought you said there was no way I could be blamed for this!"

"I've been known to lie," said Artemis with a casual shrug. "And if you'll excuse me, I need to make a phone call."

-x-

"That took you long enough."

Had Artemis been in the same room as Holly, he would have lifted his hands in self-defense. As it was, he could only pretend to hide the amusement from his voice as he asked, "Still babysitting?"

"It isn't funny! Hang on - give me a moment." Static crackled over the lines and through it, he heard Holly tell someone - presumably the intern - to stay where they were and not move. A door creaked in the background and something mechanical pinged really loudly and then she was back. "All right, we can talk freely now. And  _by the way_ , you are the last person who can make jokes about babysitting around me. Copy that?"

The ping sounded again and Artemis winced. "Understood. And tell me why you are in Foaly's operations booth right now?"

"Because Foaly isn't here and I needed someplace to hide."

Artemis frowned. "He isn't? I was talking to him only a minute ago."

"No, he rushed past me in the hall, muttering something about Denver and explosions." And then the rest of Artemis's words hit her. "Oh no. You were talking to -  _was that you in Denver?"_

"' _Is_ that you in Denver?'" Artemis corrected, "Present tense. I'm still here."

"I'm not even going to ask about that, Fowl. Just - tell me.  _How_  do I go about getting rid of this intern?"

"That bad?"

"Worse. Worse than you, even. And by that I mean because he's  _better_ than you and I don't know what to do with that. You've ruined me, Fowl. I have no idea how to handle someone who isn't about to rob a bank or dismantle a sim-coffee machine."

Artemis considered denying the bank robbery as there was no way she could have physical proof that it had happened, then decided that maybe it was safer to move on. After all, it  _did_ sound like something he would do. A safe guess. "I would have thought that would be easier on you."

Her voice dropped. "He just looks at me. Just - waits. And I don't know what to  _do_."

"You could always try teaching him how to pour a cup of sim-coffee."

" _Who doesn't know how to -"_

Artemis cut her off. "The intern isn't the actual problem, is he? You're tense. You've been on edge ever since Denver."

"Fine. You know what, then? You're right, I'm tense, and it's not about the intern. It's about you!"

"Pardon?"

"Fowl, this is how things always start out with you. They start out with something small, but before we know it we're looking at an absolute disaster! Sure, yesterday we were wrestling with a canary, but you know what? I've been chasing this intern around the office all day and d'arvit, I can't help but feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Holly, your paranoia may be justified, but please just take a breath and -"

"And you know what?" the elf continued as though he had not spoken. Clearly the pause in her speech had been exactly for that reason - to take a breath. "Last time this happened, things escalated, half the world blew up, and we lost you. Selfless action under fire is all well and good, Arty, but you know what's better? Not losing friends over situations that could be avoided! And now here you are, or were,  _or are_  over in Denver removing your wire and putting yourself in danger like you've got no idea -"

Even if the fact that he had made it through this particular escapade with his earpiece intact would likely count in his favor, the fact that he had returned to Denver at all would immediately nullify that advantage. He wisely chose to not speak.

"- like you've got no idea what you put us through!" Holly abruptly stopped talking. Silence, save for the sound of her breathing on the other end of the line.

It was a rare occasion that saw Artemis Fowl at a loss for words. Now, it took him several moments to arrange his thoughts. He found there was only one adequate response. "I am sorry for that, you know."

"I know."

More silence. Holly was the one who finally broke it. It took Artemis a moment to sort out exactly what she was doing, and another moment to determine why.

Tap - tap - tap - tap.

He peered down at his own hand, curious. It didn't move.  _A pattern of four_ , he inferred.  _She must not have conditioned me to respond to fours. Or, more accurately (as she was unaware she was conditioning me), Holly must have avoided patterns of four on principle_. The realization was oddly comforting, and he waited a moment before responding.

Tap - tap.

Slow, deliberate movements. So she would know he replied on purpose to what he was certain had been a question.

_Are we okay?_

_We are_.

They hung up without another word.

-x-

If Foaly was surprised to see Holly still in the operations booth when he returned, he didn't show it. He was probably still fretting over the Denver situation, she decided. The centaur made a beeline for his customized swivel chair, dropped into it with a heavy sigh, and immediately began typing. Holly could have left him to work in peace, but there was an intern waiting for instruction back in the boiler room.

"Tell me," she said resignedly, "How big of a mess did he make?"

There was no need to clarify just who she meant. Foaly whinnied unhappily. "Yes, it's his fault. His, not mine. You'll explain that to Kelp for me?"

Holly blinked. "What did you do, Foaly?"

"It wasn't my fault," he protested again, and the elf sighed.

"Are you going to make me call Fowl back to get to the bottom of this? Because I will do it," she threatened, and Foaly shook his head.

"No, don't - actually, wait a moment. A group call may be a good idea." Several keystrokes later, the centaur had opened a server window.

-x-

Artemis answered his phone at once. "Holly?" He had assumed that the conclusion to their prior conversation had been clear enough in meaning, but supposed he could be mistaken. After all, this was a matter concerning Holly Short. Even at the best of times, she was something of an enigma. But instead, he was greeted by Foaly's tired face, a tinfoil hat perched haphazardly upon his hair. Evidently it had been a difficult week for everybody, if the centaur was falling back upon old comforts.

"I'm here too," Holly piped up in the background, and Foaly leaned back from his monitor to allow the human a wider view of his comms booth. In response, Artemis set his phone down on the table, pulling up a video screen. Naturally, Mulch chose that moment to wander into the frame, and Holly groaned. "Gods - when you said there were explosions in Denver, you meant it?! He's there too?"

"Hey, now," said the dwarf, jovially. "That's not fair. Butler wouldn't let us near the detonator. Said something about how one of us had a bad track record with explosives, and the other one  _was_  a walking bomb." He winked. "No prizes for guessing who's who."

"You know, you could have just told me Butler was in Denver with you. I would have felt a lot better about the whole thing if I'd known that," said Holly. Foaly grimaced.

"Can we get back on topic, please? I've finished picking through Jones' laptop, and got results. It turns out that the system blueprints trace back to a stray file -"

"As expected," Artemis interrupted. Mulch elbowed the slender human in the ribs.

"-  _And_ it turns out that this file wasn't ripped from the same source as the satellite data. So I took the liberty of tracing that back, and found that they passed through an IP in Sackville, New Brunswick. I did some background checks on the town, and sure enough -"

"Isn't that in Canada?" interrupted Mulch. "I thought Canadians didn't ever actually do anything illegal. Like, they just sit there and eat maple syrup all day."

"-  _And_ it turns out," said the centaur with an irritated tail flick at the interruptions, "That I've got nothing on them. They've wiped themselves off the map. They have a really nice tourism website and that's about it. We'll need somebody on the ground to sort out this mess from there, and hey, you three are in that part of the world to begin with, so you may as well go check it out for me!" He beamed. "After all, you do work for the LEP now, Fowl!"

"It hasn't even been forty-eight hours and I'm already regretting that decision," said Artemis sullenly. "And to think all I wanted was an excuse to pick through Foaly's systems."

"I heard that!"

"You were meant to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, huge thank you once again to everyone for reading along! And to those of you who review, you make our world go round. Seriously, biggest thank you. :)
> 
> Second, you may have missed the one-shot that Freud posted to our account in November. "And Every Map Is Blank" is her take on a conversation we had over the possibility that Holly wrote the AF series for Artemis (and explains such things as the changing of names and the ridiculously numerous reappearances of Opal Koboi). I strongly suggest you go check it out because it is awesome.
> 
> And if you read the A/N of that piece, you may have noted that Freud said I'd be posting my own take on that conversation "in a few days." You'll also have noticed that I haven't done it yet. I won't offer up excuses but I will say that now that exam week is coming to a close, I should have plenty of time to finish it up. Fingers crossed, and hopefully I haven't jinxed myself again by saying so! - Winged
> 
> Two inside jokes for this episode. Firstly, Winged and I are both twenty and still religiously observe naptime. Secondly, we're both Canadian. And, spoiler alert, Artemis and Holly definitely were the reason that segment was in the handbook. - Freud


	4. Changelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 1.04: In which there is maple syrup and plot twists.

"I don't see any snow," was the first thing Mulch said upon stepping from the jet. He had his arms folded as though he'd expected it to be colder, while there was really nothing beyond a slight evening chill.

"It's Canada, not the Arctic," Butler responded. He was already down on the pavement, checking over the rented SUV that he'd arranged to have brought to the runway for their use.

"Aren't they the same thing?" Mulch stiffened. "Wait! Is that a beaver?"

The wild dog paused to regard the plane with baleful eyes before slinking around the wheel and out of sight.

-x-

There were sounds coming from the boiler room as Holly approached. More accurately, sounds beyond the usual clatter of the boiler itself - somehow, she'd managed to actually get used to that one.

"What are you doing in there?" she called through the door, uncertain if it were a good idea to open it. The decision was soon made for her, as the sounds stopped and - a moment later - the door flew open. The elf skipped backwards and the gnome in the doorway glowered up at her, his arms stretched around a plastic cube of office supplies.

"I'm leaving."

"You're going home early?"

"No. I'm leaving."

The words sunk in. "Oh." And then, " _Oh._  Do you need me to - is there a transfer form I need to sign or - "

"No."

The former intern gave her one last dour look before pushing past her. Holly turned to watch him go. "Good luck," she remembered to add. "Stay away from rogue coffee pots?"

It was only when the gnome was halfway down the hall that she realized half of the office supplies in the cube didn't belong to him. He'd disappeared around the corner before she decided she didn't care enough to bother chasing him down to get them back.

-x-

**INBOX** :

Arty;

Intern problem solved. He quit. Lasted five hours.

-H

**OUTBOX** :

Holly;

Five whole hours? He lasted longer than I expected. Well done!

-Artemis

**INBOX** :

Arty;

Did I mention that he stole your pen? The one you built a laser pointer into? Oops. You didn't need that for anything, did you?

-H

-x-

Artemis had just opened up the latest email when he heard a pointed cough from the seat in front of him. He skimmed over the text and allowed himself an annoyed frown at its contents before closing the phone. "Yes, Butler?"

"We need to talk."

Artemis set the phone aside, even as it lit up with another incoming message. "You have my full attention."

"Why didn't you tell me our objective was to retrieve that coin?"

The boy slipped his hand to his pocket, closing his fingers around the smooth metal. The hole in the middle of the coin had always felt warmer than the surrounding air, as though the substance remembered the pulse that had shaped it. Always, it was steadying. "Because the LEP would have destroyed it upon their own retrieval of Jones' laptop. We had to act first."

"That doesn't answer my question, Artemis. I didn't ask why we went after the coin - I asked why you chose not tell me about it."

"Because a coin is small enough that it could have been kept in any number of places within the house - even within the study. We already knew where the laptop was and therefore it made more sense as a target for planning the retrieval."

"You've been keeping me in the dark about a lot of your plans, lately," the bodyguard noted, his eyes narrowing on the road. In the pause that followed, his hands tightened on the wheel. "If you were unsure about the location of the coin, it would have made sense to have another pair of eyes to look for it. You didn't want me in the house."

Artemis stared out the window at the flat green landscape as it rolled past. Behind him, Mulch let out a snore as he rolled over - claiming jet lag, the dwarf had fallen asleep the moment the car began to move. "That's a rather drastic conclusion."

"Yet I don't hear you denying it."

"I'm not entirely sure what sort of response you want from me, Butler." Artemis frowned.

"The truth would be a nice start."

"That's a little harsh," said Artemis. Beside him, his phone lit up once more, and he wrenched his gaze away from the window to peer down at the incoming message.

"Ignore it," warned the bodyguard, catching his charge's distraction in the rear view mirror. "I'm trying to sort out what is going on with you, Artemis. First, you snuck out of the house. Fine. I acknowledge that you're young, and your judgement may not always be sound. Then, you insisted on travelling to Haven alone. Perhaps you wished to spend time with Holly - after the past year, I would understand that. But then, in Denver, you lied to me and deliberately planted me far enough away from Jones' house that if something were to happen to you, I would be unable to reach you in time. I can't justify that. Tell me, Artemis: are you angry with me? Because I simply don't understand."

"No." Artemis exhaled, but did not watch the air condense against the windowpane. Instead, he flipped his phone over so the lit screen faced downwards. Gathered his thoughts. "Old friend, I could never be angry with you. You know that."

"Then what is it?"

"Do you really want to hear the truth?" asked the young genius, his brow furrowed.

"No, I'd much prefer you continue to lie to me," muttered Butler under his breath. His grip was tight enough against the steering wheel that they would later lose the damage deposit on the rented vehicle, due to him having warped the entire wheel out of shape. "Of course I want the truth."

"Fine." Again, Artemis released his breath slowly. This time he watched his breath turn to fog against the glass, obscuring his view of the New Brunswick countryside as it slowly dissipated. Now Butler was silent, allowing his charge the moment to think. When Artemis finally spoke, his voice was heavy, tense. "If you must know, I accessed your medical records."

"Artemis -"

"Hear me out, please. Upon my return I noticed that, in the time I was gone, Juliet had taken a more active role in ensuring the security of the manor. I would not have been concerned about that - after all, we both know she is very capable - yet about a month ago I watched you two spar. I may not be a fighter myself, yet I do know enough about martial arts to be able to tell that she was allowing you the upper hand. And so I pulled up the records." Artemis paused. "You, old friend, were the one who lied to me. You should have told me about your heart."

Despite himself, Butler snarled. "It's not relevant, Artemis. I would have told you if it was."

"You had a heart attack!" Artemis caught his voice breaking, and swallowed hard. "While I was gone, you experienced a myocardial infarction. So yes, as soon as I became aware of the situation, I took steps to minimize the stress placed upon you. Old friend, I did not tell you what I was doing because you did not tell me that it needed to be done. I 'snuck out,' as you say, because I did not anticipate problems in Denver and so did not see the need to concern you over it. At the time, it seemed to be a minor affair."

"Artemis -"

The boy did not stop. "As for Haven? The sudden altitudinal change of a shuttle journey places strain on even the healthiest cardiovascular systems, and I knew I would be perfectly safe belowground with Holly by my side. Finally, after Becquerel Jones tranquilized me, I did not feel confident enough in my knowledge of my altered immune system to be entirely certain that my reaction was not due to a truly nasty compound within that sedative. I was not willing to risk exposing you to it." Now his voice was hard, his eyes cold. "Argue with me, then. Tell me I did not have just cause to act as I did."

For a moment, Butler was not entirely sure how to respond. In the rear view mirror, Artemis' pale face was earnest, his eyes set. He sighed. "Artemis, you know that I  _am_  getting older. That said, the day I become unable to carry out my duties as your bodyguard, I will let you know. Until then, I would expect you to -"

"To what?" Now it was Artemis' turn to soften his tone, lifting one hand to trace a line across the fog on the windowpane. "Butler, there are some risks I simply refuse to take. I have no choice but to ask you to humor me in this."

"Artemis, you were dead, and then you weren't. Your memories were gone, and then they weren't. You were weak, and you slowly regained your strength. Tell me: at what point was I supposed to have brought this up?"

"I found out all the same," he responded. Again, his phone lit up, and once more he ignored it. For several minutes they drove onwards, stray gravel and the last remnants of winter slush crunching together beneath the tires of the SUV. Nobody spoke until, finally, a voice piped up from the back of the vehicle.

"Are we there yet?" Somewhere along the last few miles, Mulch had stopped snoring. Now he sat upright, his hands folded almost demurely in his lap. "It's impossible to sleep with all this angst in the air."

-x-

**OUTBOX** :

Holly;

My apologies for the delay in reply, but you may want to find that intern. It wasn't merely a laser pointer, and I refuse to accept responsibility for whatever havoc he wreaks with it.

-Artemis

-x-

Sackville was the sort of town that belonged on postcards. It had a hardware store, several windmills, two convenience stores, multiple souvenir shops, and a lake. Two years ago there had been talk of opening up a Starbucks along Main Street, but eventually the plans had been scrapped to avoid the corporate presence in the idyllic town. After all, provincial government paid heavily for the right to feature it in their annual tourist brochures and television spots.

It was, reflected Demia Carter, a perfect example of what a town should be. Neighbors greeted one another in the streets, children sang Christmas carols in the town square each December, and it was nearly impossible to keep a secret for very long.

Her pink rain boots squelched the mud beneath her feet, and she inhaled deeply. The air smelled of springtime, the last remnants of ice lingering only at the most recessed areas of the shoreline. It was already being broken by the new reeds that sprung up each year, as though by magic, while the rest of the landscape was still frozen. At her hip, her cell phone vibrated; she frowned and spoke.

"Answer call."

The phone beeped once in confirmation, and began to broadcast a voice. "Yo, uh, Demi?"

"Yes, Bec?"

"Hey, man, listen. You may wanna be on your guard. My place just got broken into a few hours back, and they did something to the security grid you sent me. Not sure what it was, and I dunno if they can trace it back to you, but I figured I'd pass on the message anyways."

"Goodness." She bit her lower lip for a moment, considering. Gusts blew over the melting lake to ruffle her dark hair. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"Me? Nah, I'm solid here." Back in Denver, Becquerel Jones wrinkled his nose. "My front hall rug is a different story, though. If company shows up, you might want to watch out for the short one. Packs a real wallop. I won't tell you how."

"I understand," Demia said, slipping her hands into the pockets of her skirt. "Thank you for the warning, Bec. You're a fantastic friend."

"Wasn't anything," the other teenager insisted. "I'll let you go now. Be careful out there, Demia. I know we're good, but these guys - they know about the magic, and they don't seem to care who gets in their way. You know? Watch yourself."

"I will. You take care." She tapped her painted fingernails twice against the casing of her phone, and the device took the cue to turn itself off. Tapping her toes inside her size six rain boots, the teenager looked up once more and spoke to herself, allowing the wind to carry her words out across the ruffled water. "I'll be just fine."

-x-

"I managed to track down the GPS coordinates," Foaly explained. "More difficult than I'd expect for a human. Not only was the signal bounced off various sites around the world but it was also set up to go through several different servers in Sackville. Clinic, local college, internet cafe, library. Looks like it's even being routed through several different homes."

He bit off the end of a carrot, forgetting again that the sound of his chewing would carry across the line. "Clever or stupid, depending on your reasoning. On the one hand, it makes it more obvious that the signal is originating in Sackville. However, it's also much more difficult to trace down the exact location of the signal's origin. It's a defence mechanism to ensure that the sender has advance warning if anyone is trying to trace back the signal - and to ensure that if someone comes looking for them, that someone will be footing it all about town first." He paused, waiting.

It was Holly who gave in first, sighing behind him from where she'd been keeping an eye on the proceedings ever since Artemis sent word that the plane had landed. "And you were brilliant enough to get past all that."

Foaly beamed. "Child's play. I simply had to -"

"As much as I enjoy analyzing your technique," Artemis cut in, "We're just driving into the town now. Coordinates?"

The centaur rattled off the numbers and continued, "The house belongs to a Harold Carter, a professor at the local college. Something to do with arts - oh."

Holly leaned forward. "Oh?"

"Oh?" echoed Butler and Mulch.

"Folklore," answered Artemis. He was looking at the college's website through his phone's browser - the same page that Foaly had opened on his own computers in the Operations Booth. "Professor Carter specializes in folklore and oral literature."

"Fairy tales," Foaly clarified unnecessarily.

Artemis was still reading through the page. "What is more, the professor took the previous term off on sabbatical, which he spent with his family in Europe. Norway, to be precise."

"D'arvit," swore Holly under her breath. "There's someone I need to talk to."

-x-

The Carter residence was distinct from others in the cul-de-sac, with ivy crawling up the walls and the roof in want of fresh shingles. A large tree cast a shadow over the front yard, which was partially protected from view by a waist-high hedge that was a mess of twigs and newly budding leaves. A novelty gate stood over the cracked cement path, with a girl perched on the metal bars to swing back and forth. Behind her was an overgrown lawn peppered with garden gnomes and dandelions.

Artemis looked beyond the girl and the yard, peering at the eaves of the house for any sign of a security system. There was nothing he could see but, given the trouble Foaly had with following the signal, Artemis would be surprised if Professor Carter did not have something in place.

"I need a closer look," he told Butler, and slipped from the vehicle before the bodyguard could protest.

Mulch had taken up position to the rear of the house and was getting impatient. "Wait, are you changing the plan?"

"A mere tweak," Artemis responded. "Stay where you are. I need a closer look to confirm a hunch. And Butler, I'm doing nothing more than walking past the house - you can pick me up down the road in a few minutes."

By this time, he was close enough to the property to see what he wanted. "The garden gnomes," he said, rubbing at his cheek to mask the movement of his lips should anyone be watching. "Those are the cameras. I'll trust you to get past those easily enough, Mulch."

"Is that a go?"

"That is a - "

Artemis gave the girl another look. She was dressed in a frilly skirt with bright pink rain boots and a mess of brown curls framing her face, and was playing with the hem of her sweater as she swung back and forth on the gate. She glanced in his direction and their eyes caught, briefly, before she looked away again. She hopped from the gate, and glanced up once more to offer a quick smile before turning and running - no, more like skipping up the front path to her door.

Artemis watched, and knew. "Nevermind," he said softly.

"Pardon?" asked Mulch, who had been just about to take his first bite of earth.

"Step back and regroup," Artemis ordered. His pace had already sped up, and rather than pass by the house, he turned up the path to follow the girl to the door.

She had already skipped inside and was waiting for him, the space between door and frame blocked by her body, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"It's you," he said.

From his vantage point in the car, Butler tensed.

The girl gave a bright grin. "Hello, Artemis," she said with ease, "I would love to invite you in but, see, my mother says I'm not allowed to talk to strangers."

"You already know my name," Artemis responded.

"And here I thought you were going to question my desire to follow Mother's advice." She tipped back on her heels. "But I really do not want to talk to you today, Artemis. Goodbye."

And without a single word more, she closed the door in his face.

"This is  _not good_. This is the definition of  _not good_. Beside the phrase "not good" in the dictionary is a picture of  _this entire situation_!" said a panicked Foaly, turning back to his screen. In his ear, Artemis heard the tapping of keys.

"I'm aware of this," muttered Artemis through clenched teeth. He frowned at the door before turning away abruptly to regroup at the SUV.

"Not good," Holly groaned in agreement. The other shoe had officially dropped.

"Uh oh," said Mulch into his earpiece, preoccupied with his lost meal. "Our 'not good' threshold is pretty high. Did I miss something?"

"Mulch, you're supposed to be helping!"

"This is how I help - either I eat things, or I uneat things, and either way I've just been told to stand down!" The dwarf stuck out his tongue.

"Uneat?" repeated Foaly, distracted by his keyboard.

"Well, you see, usually when I eat something, it -"

"That's enough, Mulch," said Artemis with a grimace.

Nobody else asked for further clarification.

-x-

At one point in his life, Caltrop Chlorella had assumed that the only good thing about prison would be the separation from his housepet. Adopting the canary had been a mistake; apparently caging it had only served to make the bird even angrier. He'd often bemoaned his rotten luck in choice of domesticated companion, and grumbled to himself that at least in prison, he'd be safe from her reign of terror.

Unfortunately, he hadn't even been that lucky.

A bolt of canary-yellow lightning shot down the hallway, screeching out bloody murder. The water sprite shrank back against the wall of his holding cell, quivering. He hadn't yet been transferred out of Police Plaza - instead, the force had opted to hold him in the containment cells beneath the station until the true depth of his crimes had been determined. After all, he didn't particularly strike either of his arresting officers as an especially violent individual, and his fairly lackluster criminal record spoke for itself.

"I'm dead," he glubbed, reaching to his jawline to adjust the tanks over his gills. "That's it. I'm dead."

His cellmate, a rather despondent gnome with hair that looked as though it hadn't seen water in months, grunted in response. "Funny, you haven't stopped talking yet."

"You don't think this is serious!?" Caltrop was aghast, turning to the gnome. He took a quivering step forward. "I'm dead!"

"And you haven't shut up! You sound plenty alive to me!"

Outside, Lucia screeched once more. Cal grasped the front of the gnome's prison uniform. "I'm dead, man, I'm dead!"

"Hey, get off me!" The gnome lashed out with an elbow, striking the sprite across the chin. Caltrop went flying, his slender frame offering no resistance against the blow. His gill tanks crumpled upon impact, and he choked.

"H-H-Help!"

"You in there! Behave!" A rather burly elf rapped on the cell door, though his speech was cut off as he ducked beneath the freed canary as she made another pass down the hallway. "We're evacuating," he said as he swung the clear door open wide. "No funny business, now. Single-file, and let's keep this - Oh!" He swore, ducking down as the rogue bird doubled back for a second attack.

"Begone, feathered - feathered hellspawn!" sputtered Caltrop, throwing himself flat against the ground of his cell to avoid the furious beating of wings. The bird screeched and wheeled, and the water sprite scrambled back, pressing himself against the wall. "Lucia, stop!"

"Oi, you brainless maniac!" shouted the gnome, lifting the pillow from his cot and throwing it. He missed by a mile, but the diving bird felt the disturbance in the air and crowed her disapproval, wheeling an inch from Caltrop's neck. The sprite took the moment's relief to fix his tank, though bubbles still rose frantically in time with his rapid breaths.

"Her name is Lucia," gasped Caltrop as he finally picked himself off the floor. His cellmate grunted once more, his arms raised to protect his head.

"I wasn't referring to the bird. Hey, watch it!"

The elf had decided to join the fray, drawing his gun from its holster and firing off a single shot. It ricocheted around the small cell, the polished tile serving as a perfect conduit for the reflection of energy. The gnome yelped, and then hit the floor.

Caltrop took the distraction and ran for the door.

Holly Short heard the chaos several hallways away, and did not need to think twice about her response.

Instinct kicked in, and when she turned the corner to view the unfolding commotion, she barely thought once. At the sight of the yellow blur screeching after the fleeing sprite, she drew her Neutrino, took careful aim, and fired off a single pulse.

The bird dropped like a stone, landing spread-eagled on the cold tile floor. The hallway fell silent, and the elf took advantage of the sudden hush. She pointed a finger at the trembling water sprite, and raised her voice. "Chlorella, you're with me. Everybody else -" She paused for a moment, surveying the damage before shaking her head in disgust. "Back to business as usual."

Caltrop dropped to his knees in relief. "Thank you - thank you!" He peered anxiously around Holly, brow furrowed. "The human's not - not with you, is he?"

"No. I have some questions for you, Chlorella."

"Phew, good. As long as the human's not around." Now that the immediate threat had been dispelled, Caltrop rose slowly, leaning in to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. "Between you and me, Captain Short, the human's a bit of a menace."

Holly winced. "I'd noticed."

"Almost as wantonly destructive as my canary!" His gills fluttered, and Holly snorted as she grasped the sprite by the scruff of the neck.

"I doubt it. Now please come quietly. I'd rather not stun anybody else today."

-x-

Artemis had called for a full retreat to a cafe in the middle of the town. From his position, he could look through the window to view most of the street, and what he saw was quite interesting.

"You see, there," he told Butler with a nod towards the bank. "Surprisingly advanced security system for a small town. The streetlights are all energy efficient."

The bodyguard nodded thoughtfully, comfortable in the act of pretending he knew what Artemis was leading up to. Mulch, on the other hand, had no qualms about interrupting. "So the humans had a break-in at the bank. Bet I could still get in there."

"So, even the banks of big cities have been struggling to repair their security since the Techno Crash," Artemis retorted. "The world is still piecing itself together. Most small towns are still surviving on near-primitive technology."

"So our culprit is here because of the technology," Mulch said around a mouthful of maple donut. According to him, they were a Canadian delicacy.

"No. I would assume the technology is here because of our culprit." Artemis frowned and turned on the ear bud. "Foaly, have you found her yet?"

"Demia Carter," was the prompt response. "And besides the information on her father, the professor, there is nothing to be found. Sound familiar?"

"Unfortunately," was Artemis's response. "Excuse me, I have a call to make."

-x-

The call was answered on the first ring. "Hello and thank you for calling Paradizo Psychiatric Consulting. This is Sharon speaking. How may I assist you today?"

Mulch shot a dark look at Artemis before saying into the phone, "I'd like to speak to Min - uh - Ms. Paradizo about some symptoms I've been having. Obsessive counting, tapping. And an irrational fear of squids.  _Ouch - hey, was that supposed to hurt?_ "

"Would you like me to book an appointment for you, sir? I'll need your name and contact information, and - "

"Just over the phone," Mulch insisted. "It's urgent. I'm also hearing voices. Again. The evil ones _._ "

To her credit, the secretary barely missed a beat. "I'll transfer you over in just a minute, sir. If I might have your name?"

"Mo," replied the dwarf easily. He waited until the strains of Mozart sounded over the line and then passed the phone to Artemis, who was resisting the urge to complain. Comfortable as his custom loafers were, they did not provide adequate toe protection in the event of kicking a dwarf. Mulch huffed. "I still don't understand why you can't make the call yourself."

"Because the receptionist recognizes my voice and no longer puts my call through," Artemis answered. Mulch blinked and might have asked more, except the human's expression changed just then as another voice came on the line.

"Hello, Mo. Sharon tells me you've been hearing voices?"

Artemis wasted no time. "Minerva, I need a favour."

The sigh carried through the line. "When  _don't_ you need a favour, Artemis?"

"I would assume, given our history, that you would find a way to spare a minute?" Artemis furrowed his brow. Minerva never did make this sort of interaction easy.

"Very well. What is it you need?"

"Information. I've crossed paths with a girl, Demia Carter, and I need -"

"No."

"Pardon?"

"If you are implying what I think you are implying, the answer is no. Sort out your own love life, Fowl. I won't -"

"Minerva, no. Listen. I have reason to believe that Miss Carter is aware of  _our mutual friends_." His voice dropped. "The situation could potentially become quite dangerous,  _as I am sure you know well_. The problem is that I am currently affiliated with the LEP, and so I am constrained by their methods."

"And you need somebody on the outside, to make sure our friends haven't missed any pieces of the larger picture?"

"Precisely. I'm sending the relevant information to you now."

"And I've received it. Well." Minerva pretended to stifle a yawn, though her eyes were already scanning the text, "I suppose I've got nothing else going on. I'll have to see what I can turn up. Though I'm not entirely certain what you need me for, if you've already involved yourself in the situation."

"Miss Carter was smart enough to find our friends, and I don't believe she's working alone. I'd rather waste an hour or two of your time than discover in a few hours that I could have used your help."

Minerva considered for a moment. "You owe me, Artemis."

"Thank you." Artemis hung up without further discussion.

-x-

**INBOX** :

Artemis,

Your request for direct access to the Haven Library Archives has been denied. As I am sure you are aware, several of our more important texts have been enchanted to disintegrate at a human touch. With that knowledge, we simply can not allow you unsupervised access to the physical volumes. However, you have been granted permission to work with Professor H. D. Tweedir, who has generously volunteered to act as your research liaison for the extent of your time with the LEP. Please set up an appointment by contacting a librarian during office hours.

Thank you,

Maple Plumtree, Head Librarian

Haven Library Archives

**INBOX:**

Artemis,

Friendly warning for my favourite Mud Boy, DON'T WORK WITH TWEEDIR. He's absolutely insufferable.

Or, on second thought, you two should get along wonderfully.

Third thought: did you really believe anybody would let you browse the archives? They tried to be polite about it, too - wow, that IS precious.

Foaly

-x-

**OUTBOX:**

Foaly,

I'm sure the warning is appreciated. Of course I did not expect my request to be approved; it was merely worth a try.

Artemis

-x-

Upon her arrival at the surface, Holly decided she was already tired of this particular adventure. Caltrop had not withstood the shuttle journey well - it was only after several nerve wracking moments of negotiating through the bathroom door that he was eventually coaxed into leaving the shuttleport. Really, he was no worse for wear. A little shaky, perhaps, and he had gone a rather off-putting shade of gray.

The elf made no secret of her disdain. Even Artemis had handled his first shuttle trip with a little more grace.

By the time they arrived in Sackville, the sprite's complaints had worn her nerves entirely thin. Artemis and company were waiting inside a rented SUV.

"Oh, fantastic," groaned Caltrop when Artemis exited the vehicle. "I think I'd rather take my chances with the canary."

"That could be arranged," threatened Holly through clenched teeth.

The human made a show of checking his watch. "What took you so long?"

Holly grimaced. "Ask the convict."

"Wait, what did I do now?" Mulch Diggums had rolled down a tinted window to poke his head out of the vehicle, inhaling the sweet night air. It tasted like springtime in the country, fragrant and clean. The sort of air that one only came across in a small town. The dwarf belched.

"Nothing, Mulch." Artemis did not look up, instead studying Caltrop closely. "Chlorella and I need to have a talk."

-x-

The discussion took place on an old, winding bridge that ran along the waterfront. Holly had perched on the wooden railing, her neutrino laying across her lap should Chlorella try to run. Butler and Mulch had taken up positions on either side of the walkway, leaving Artemis facing the miserable watersprite in the middle.

"As Holly and myself have already explained  _numerous times,_ " Artemis was saying tiredly, "no one is recording this conversation. You were brought up here for a face-to-face meeting  _because_  this is strictly off the record."

"Why should I say anything?" Caltrop asked, arms folded petulantly.

Artemis gritted his teeth. "We're your arresting officers. I should think that even you would realize aiding us will only help your case."

"Off the record? You're not recording anything?"

Artemis reached into his pocket to pull out a thin, black device no bigger than his thumb. "A frequency jammer," he said. "I put it together while you were on your way to the surface."

Caltrop was impressed. "You must be serious."

Mulch rolled his eyes. "He didn't build it just for you, fishboy."

The watersprite blushed and said nothing. Holly groaned. "Don't act impressed, or he'll never stop showing off - it probably only took him twenty minutes."

"Sixteen," replied Artemis, returning the device to his pocket. "The point is, this is off the record. It's in your best interests to be honest, as with no proof that this conversation took place, nothing you say here can be used to incriminate you later. We simply need the truth."

"And then you're going to arrest me!" Caltrop folded his arms and glowered. "I - I know how this works! You'll arrest me -"

"You are already under arrest." Holly shot a look at Artemis that said quite clearly how little she thought of this particular escapade. The human sighed.

"As mentioned, we already did arrest you, which gives us some sway over your case."

"I - yeah, okay." Caltrop seemed to wither, his shoulders slumping. When he made a dash for the bridge railing, Artemis was almost able to move quickly enough to stop him.

Almost.

The water sprite hit the water with a sound splash. Holly took a moment to swear before she hopped the railing herself and dove after him.

-x-

"You knew that would happen!" hissed a waterlogged Holly twenty minutes later, once more standing in the middle of the bridge. One hand held Caltrop by the collar of his shirt; the other drummed a pattern on the barrel of her gun. Artemis tapped along.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Why are you doing that with your hands? Am I supposed to start singing along? Did this suddenly turn into a musical?" Now that escape was proven impossible, Caltrop had seemed to gain a bizarre sort of courage.

In fairness, he almost might even have been successful in his escape had one of his breathing tubes not dislodged upon impact with the water's surface. As it was, the air he had gasped in as he went over the railing had flooded his gills. He had coughed, sputtered, and choked long enough for Holly to easily wrangle him back to shore.

Artemis looked down at his hand and grimaced, curling his fingers into a fist as the elf gave a smirk that would not be out of place on her human friend's face. Nonetheless, she stopped tapping, and so did he.

"Now that you've gotten that escape attempt out of your system," began Artemis. He was trying desperately to get the consultation back on track as, even though he had expected that small distraction, they were still behind schedule. "Can we discuss, in more detail, your involvement with the Norwegian hacktivists? I need to know exactly what information you sent them."

"Well, they didn't know about the People, if that's what you're asking about? The humans thought they were, um, playing some sort of game. Didn't take it seriously, at all, most of 'em."

"One of them must have taken it seriously, though," insisted Artemis. The water sprite shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. There was one girl who seemed a bit too into the whole thing? Contacted me, wanted some more info, and said she didn't wanna do anything with it, just get an edge over the other players? Yeah, I thought it was funny, you humans and your games, so I sent it along. Some blueprints."

"The security system," said Holly. Artemis nodded.

"If Becquerel Jones was also looking for the People, it's not implausible that he and Demia may have crossed paths and pooled information. Jones did not share the satellite records with her, but she gave him the security system blueprints. Interesting."

"Humans and your games," repeated Caltrop, folding his arms.

"Which means LEPfoul is authorized to intervene here, as we were already involved in the Jones case," noted Holly.

"Jones kept his findings to himself. That's good - that means it's unlikely we'll find this particular security breach to have wider consequences, as long as she has only sent the blueprints to him. This can be contained. They're both working in relative isolation, and there's unlikely to be much trust between them. Somebody of Carter's intelligence must have known that Jones was holding information back."

"So, we shut this down here and it goes away?" asked Holly, her arm starting to ache from keeping Caltrop restrained.

"Essentially."

-x-

"What do you mean, shut this down here and make it go away?" Holly spluttered, barely a quarter hour later.

Commander Kelp glared at her from her helmet's screen. "I mean exactly that. I set up this department to contain problems -  _not_  to create new ones. I don't want to know what you hope to uncover in Sackville. I don't want to know why there was an explosion in Jones's residence yesterday. And I certainly do not want to know why the water sprite you arrested is currently on the surface instead of the holding cells. Jones has gone missing. Mind-wipe the girl before she disappears as well, retrieve the information, and get the convict  _back belowground."_

"Which one?" she asked sourly.

"All of them!"

Holly glanced past the image of her commanding officer to the convicts in question. Caltrop was listening skeptically to Mulch, who had taken it upon himself to advise the water sprite on prison life. "Sir, shouldn't we interview her first to find out what the information was for?"

Kelp was unimpressed. "It won't matter after the mind-wipe. I am serious when I say I want you -  _and the convicts_ \- back belowground as soon as possible, if not before. Understood?"

Holly tried not to scowl. "Understood, sir."

He hesitated for an instant before his expression softened. "D'arvit - Holly, you're making me sound like Root!" And then, before she could reply, Kelp ended the call.

"A pity he hung up before you could remind him that there are worse people to sound like," remarked Artemis, who had - naturally - been eavesdropping on the call. And then, "Wait. Do you think he considers me to be a convict, as well?"

-x-

"Does she really think that's what gnomes look like?"

"I'm fairly certain that's what most humans imagine gnomes to look like," replied Artemis, turning the lawn ornament over in his hands. It had already been disabled by the signal jammer that still sat nestled in his pocket, but he wanted to take a look at the security system all the same. "Interesting."

"I wish you'd stop saying that." Holly had not taken their new orders well - shielded, she hovered two feet away and grumbled into her helmet. "Haven't you learned yet that it never ends well when you say that?"

"No, look. She had the same security blueprints as Jones, yet unlike him, she never implemented them. So while she is technically proficient enough to improve the town's systems within human standards after the Technocrash, yet fairy technology is beyond her. If she could have used it, she would have. That's a good sign." Artemis looked up. "It means Jones is the only one who was actively building fairy technology, and since we know he was not inclined to share his findings with others, it is confirmation that this situation really can be contained."

"Then let's contain it," Holly sighed.

Artemis responded by replacing the garden gnome and brushing off his hands. "Her room will be around back, and I doubt she'll be asleep."

Holly didn't answer. Artemis looked up, wondering if she'd already started toward the house. A beat of four taps on the grip of an invisible neutrino assured him otherwise.  _Someone else is close enough to hear_ , he realized, and turned on his heel.

"Is the talking to yourself supposed to be an eccentric genius sort of thing? Because it's not the sort of thing I do, but I don't think I'm that eccentric, not really?" said Demia from beneath the tree. "And you were right - I'm not asleep. Thanks for the concern - insomnia is so terrible, isn't it?"

All of this was said with a single breath. The pauses in her speech were for emphasis only, and her hands fluttered as she spoke. Artemis took a moment to be grateful that she hadn't wanted to speak to him earlier - apparently talking was something she did quite well.

"Yes, I'd imagine it would be," he said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the faintest shimmer as Holly moved slowly into position. Slowly, so as to not disturb the air and warn Demia.

"I noticed you were looking at my garden gnomes. So clever, aren't they? My idea, of course. I think it's spectacularly fitting." She looked at him sharply. "You're here because you're a changeling too, aren't you?"

Artemis was at a loss for words. "Am I supposed to understand this terminology?"

"You know, changelings. Fairy mythology. My dad's a professor of the stuff, that's how I figured it out. Obviously I'm much too clever to be a true human."

By now, Artemis had lost sight of Holly. He sighed, and Demia bounced on her heels.

"What, you don't believe me? You've gotta know what changelings are - I mean, you're here, so you must know! Wouldn't it explain so much, if kids like me were actually magic? My dad told me all kinds of stories about how fairy babies got swapped for normal ones, and then the fairy kids grew up feeling like they didn't actually belong anywhere, and maybe there's some truth to it!" Her eyes were afire, and her chin jutted out in a posture of defiance. "Go on, tell me I'm wrong!"

"I understand the concept of changelings," Artemis replied mildly.

"Then you agree!" She skipped forward across the lawn, nearly running over Holly. "Bec said I couldn't trust you but I think you feel out of place, too.  _Don't you?"_

Artemis looked at her in bewilderment and had no idea what to say. He opened his mouth - and then Demia crumpled to the ground.

"It's okay, Mud Boy," said Holly as she replaced her neutrino in its holster, unshielding with a smirk. "We can all be outcasts together."

-x-

The first rays of dawn were beginning to bleed over the horizon as the rented SUV finally found the highway. The actual mind wipe had gone quickly enough - they would have left Sackville hours ago, had it not been for Mulch's insistence upon leaving a parting gift.

It had turned out that Sackville had just one 24-hour convenience store, located on the opposite side of town, that carried maple syrup. It was only once the jar was left in a place of honor upon Demia's bedside table that the dwarf agreed it was time to go.

"Oh, relax, Holly! Her brain will come up with some perfectly reasonable reason for it to be there!" reassured Mulch, for the eighth time. "Besides, everybody knows syrup is a Canadian delicacy! We're only being polite! Which is also a Canadian thing!" Everybody present knew that, by this point, he was actively trying to be annoying. It was working.

"She won't know that we were there. We were supposed to not leave any traces behind.  _And_   _you are not Canadian_ ," hissed the elf in response. Again.

Thrilling as that conversation was, Artemis was relieved when his phone rang and gave him an excuse to properly ignore them. "Hello?"

"Artemis. I ran the numbers you gave me and I do have some insights on this girl. Remarkably intelligent for her age - knows the internet well enough to have erased nearly every trace. If you wouldn't mind, I have some ideas about how to approach her -"

Artemis coughed awkwardly. "Yes, thank you, Minerva. We've actually dealt with her already."

The silence on the other end was not encouraging. Then, her voice as cold as the Canadian night, "You've already dealt with her?"

"That is correct."

"You specifically contacted me for consultation and then dealt with the situation before I could give you my insights - and did not even bother to tell me about it?"

Artemis sighed. "I apologize, Minerva. It's been a long day."

"A long day, has it? Longer than mine as I analyzed your problem?"

"Minerva -"

"Incidentally, I came to a sobering conclusion during this analysis. This girl, Demia. And her friend in the States whom I assume you are already aware of -?"

"Yes."

"Artemis, I've believed for a long time that kids are getting smarter, but  _this_  is just impossible. Statistically speaking, even controlling for population growth, there should be no more than one or two living human individuals with IQs as high as ours. Furthermore, the fact that we both became interested in the People was remarkable, and even more unlikely. And then there's your brother Myles - his intelligence is excusable only because he's been tainted by association with you. But now Demia, and this friend of hers, Becquerel? It's statistically impossible. There must be some underlying factor."

Artemis nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "I was afraid you would mention that."

"Oh?" And then, fiercely, "Artemis Fowl, if you contacted me just to receive confirmation that this correlation is alarming, I'll -"

"Stop right there. I guarantee whatever you were about to threaten me with, I've heard worse."

She conceded the point. "True. Knowing you, you have. And objectively, I can understand that you needed me to reach this conclusion independently to validate your own theory. All the same -" She huffed a sigh and didn't finish her thought. "Just keep me aware of the situation, please? I would appreciate staying in the loop on this one."

"Understandable," Artemis replied. "Although I can't guarantee I can tell you everything due to restrictions of my own position."

"Because you always follow rules and regulations to the letter," she retorted.

-x-

They parted ways at the airstrip, Holly still holding Caltrop firmly by the collar. Like every other facet of this particular escapade, it did not go exactly as planned.

"I'm not returning to Ireland," announced Artemis. "At least, not right away."

"You're supposed to be grounded," reminded Butler.

"The situation changed. Becquerel Jones has disappeared."

"And I don't think you understand how 'grounded' works."

"It's not relevant. Jones is missing, and Minerva brought up a point that I had also been concerned about. I need to run some numbers and it will go much more quickly - with a much greater degree of accuracy - if I have access to fairy databases to do it. I'm returning belowground with Holly and the others."

"Is this about what you mentioned earlier, when you were on the phone, about other smart kids?" glubbed Caltrop. He struggled once, weakly, against Holly's grip. The elf held firm.

"Fantastic," said Mulch, fixating on that concept. "That's exactly the thing we need,  _more_ human kids running around convinced they're changelings. Well...I guess it could be worse. At least this latest one didn't try to kidnap anybody. Maybe  _Changelings_  is an improvement?"

"Changelings," repeated Artemis, under his breath. "You realize Demia's father lied to her? Changeling folklore is not very nice at all."

"I know. Neither are you humans, so maybe she got that one right after all," grumbled Mulch.

"What about me?" asked Caltrop, quaking at the thought of returning to the cells where Lucia presumably continued her reign of terror. "Did you all forget about me?"

"Back to jail, Chlorella." Holly failed to be sympathetic. In fairness to her, she still had not recovered entirely from the last time Artemis had been belowground.

"Perhaps not - I heard that LEPfoul is in need of a new intern? Our old one only lasted five hours," said Artemis. "Maybe some kind of agreement can be reached."

Holly glared at him, and Artemis pointedly tapped his index finger twice against his leg.  _The sprite is honest, adapts well to chaos, and seems to annoy Holly. Also, if we are able to prevent him from facing legal recourse for his actions, he will be in our debt. A perfect addition to the team._

And then,  _wait. Since when did I think in terms of being part of a team?_  His hand drifted to the coin in his pocket, nestled snugly beside his LEP badge.  _Apparently, there's a first time for everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait in getting this episode up, and sorry for all the exposition! We needed to set up the situation for the rest of the series, and that took a lot longer than we thought it would. If you feel like this episode needs a TL;DR, here it is:
> 
> Butler has heart problems, Holly has intern problems, Artemis and Minerva have a serious case of passive-aggression, Caltrop has gill tank problems, LEPfoul has Changeling problems, and Mulch has problems understanding what "Canadian" means.
> 
> Everybody has Lucia problems, and our spell-checker doesn't think "Canadian" is a real word. Some of these problems are more relevant than others. Thank you, as always, for bearing with us! And thanks for reading and reviewing - as Winged says, you make our world go 'round! -Freud
> 
> As Freud mentioned, this was an exposition-heavy episode. Sorry about that. The next one will be more of an action-y adventure, I promise.
> 
> And thank you all once again for your responses to previous chapters! We both love talking to you all about thoughts and characters and the like. (You may have noticed, we're both a bit wordy!) Cheers! - Winged


	5. Sass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webisode 1: In which the team continues to grow.

"I still don't understand why you couldn't have done this from aboveground," Holly complained. Her attitude had grown sour during the trip back below the earth. This may or may not have been due to the human that had accompanied her on the shuttle. It may also have had something to do with Caltrop's current situation, huddled in the corner muttering to himself as he attempted to decipher the instructions written on the side of the coffee machine.

Artemis, seated at the same table he had earlier used to disassemble that very machine, gave a faint shrug. He'd already made the conscious decision to ignore the water sprite entirely. There was work to be done.

"Because the Techno-Crash presented an opportunity, and anybody with sufficient intelligence would recognize that. I know if I had..." Here Artemis faltered, examining his hands for a moment before continuing to speak in a lowered voice, "If I had survived the event unscathed, I would have taken full advantage of the chance to improve multiple systems and interfaces while nobody would object to the changes. I also know that's exactly what Minerva and Demia both did."

"So, why don't you use your own -"

"If my own systems were not taken entirely offline by the Crash, I would have been able to trace back several different metrics to determine areas of accelerated technological growth and singular innovation. In doing so, with any luck I'd have been able to pinpoint the individuals behind each anomaly. Unfortunately, my systems were destroyed that day and remained offline for the next six months. The best I can hope to do is sift through the scattered reports Foaly's machines were able to compile retroactively. It's nowhere near a comprehensive search, but does provide a starting point. I could do this remotely, you're correct on that count, but as it stands I've already been granted access to Foaly's records so I may as well take advantage of it. There's no need to work around the centaur's encryptions, so it's infinitely faster to work directly from the data itself. In addition, if Jones turns up I want to be able to respond quickly, and the People's shuttle system is the most reliable form of transportation I know. We are still on his case, correct?"

"As far as I know. But you know as well as I do that he's gone to ground. We won't be seeing him again until he wants us to."

"Of course. Still, best to be prepared for the contingency."

"And don't think I missed that earlier, about you being grounded."

He grinned. "Precisely. Interspecies police work does provide a nice excuse to ignore that particularity."

Across the room, the coffee machine emitted a pulse of blistering steam. Caltrop squealed, and neither of his arresting officers bothered to look up. It was Holly who finally relented with a sigh, though her head did not turn.

"You alright, convict?"

"Oh, yeah!" squeaked Caltrop, who had gone the color of a freshly-boiled shrimp. "Just peachy."

-x-

"When I said 'get the convicts back belowground,'" said a tight-lipped Kelp, "I thought it was implied that _that one_ was perfectly fine where he was."

Artemis looked down, offended, to where his commanding officer had jabbed at him. Even standing on tiptoe, Kelp could only reach to the middle of the human's chest.

Holly coughed. "You're going to have to be more specific with your orders, then, _sir_ ," she said brightly. "Unless you'd rather transfer me out and put someone else in charge of this department?"

" _No_."

-x-

Holly stopped short in the entrance to the boiler room, staring with displeasure at a message that had just come through her wrist computer. "Artemis, do you remember the original definition of 'intern' that you gave me?"

The human looked up from his work, mildly irritated at the distraction. "Yes. An employee requiring on the job training - what of it?"

"And would you say that we've got enough of that to deal with?" Holly looked over her shoulder to where Caltrop was sitting on his desk, headphones blaring. After the disaster with the coffee machine, he'd given up on being productive for the day. To be fair, that suited both his bosses just fine - neither of them were in the mood to walk him through the steps of how to actually pour a cup of coffee. This was turning out to be a common problem.

"Enough on the job training? Yes, I would assume that we are - wait. Please tell me you aren't inferring-" The inbox notification showed up mid-sentence, and Artemis brought the message to the forefront of his laptop screen with a swipe of his finger. "Foaly has got to be doing this on purpose."

"Agreed."

Their new intern was a young centaur that Holly had already had the misfortune of meeting. Her name was Pihassas, she was Foaly's niece, and he had made the mistake of dragging her to one of the LEP's annual summer picnics several years back. The ensuing incident was still talked about around water coolers.

"See," Pihassas proclaimed as she trotted in the door three hours later (and four hours late for the start of her first official training shift), "I'm only here because the LEP makes you do a stupid internship requirement before you go into the squad you really want."

"Which would be?" said Holly, already fighting a headache. The neon purple shade of the centaur's mane wasn't helping, and she made a mental note to double-check LEP dress code policies for interns. She needn't have bothered - from behind his laptop, Artemis was putting on quite a show of looking entirely absorbed in his work while actually searching for an answer to that exact same question.

"I wanna get on one of the teams that busts gangs. That seems like it'd be exciting, y'know?" Pihassas shrugged. "And anybody who calls me 'Pihassas' gets trampled, fair warning right now. It's 'Sass.'"

"Yes, I bet it is. You've never actually met a gang member." It wasn't a question. Inwardly, Holly was seething. Clearly, LEP hiring standards had fallen dramatically in the decades since she'd first applied. Either that, or the brass were actively hoping that Pihassas' stint with LEPfoul would scare her away from law enforcement altogether. She decided to fervently hope for the second option.

"Well, duh. Do you really think I'd be here if I had any other way to get where I wanted to go?" Sass looked around the cluttered boiler room with a toss of her mane. "I mean, _look_ at this place."

"I know, right?" Caltrop straightened, kicking out his feet from his perch on the edge of his desk. "It's awful! I'm Cal, by the way."

"And I don't care, by the way." Sass snorted. "So, what exactly is it that you do around here?"

-x-

**OUTBOX:**

Foaly;

I had set up a program to analyse the technical development of human communities over the past six months, only to discover that your systems had mistakenly flagged it as a virus. I have already taken the liberty of ensuring your systems will not make that mistake again; in return, I request that you upgrade my permissions. Thank you.

-Artemis

**INBOX:**

Artemis,

Hm, that's odd. Generally my systems only respond to pieces of code worming their way around information I did not want them to access. I can't imagine how they made that mistake.

\- Foaly

-x-

**INBOX:**

Arty,

If you're spending another night underground, we need to get you an apartment.

-H

**OUTBOX:**

Holly;

I imagine I will be spending plenty of nights belowground, given the current status of the Changeling problem. Do you have any suggestions on location?

-Artemis

**INBOX:**

Arty,

Anywhere but my couch.

-H

-x-

**INBOX** :

Pihassas,

Do you have any idea how to synchronize our folders with the rest of the department's? I'm pretty sure the system should have automatically given us access to files and the like, but I can't sort out how to activate it.

-Caltrop

**OUTBOX** :

Squirt,

What did I say bout calling me that? and trampling? esp. the TRAMPLING?!

-SASS

**INBOX** :

Sass,

Never mind. I figured out a better way to fix the problem.

-Cal

-x-

**INBOX:**

Artemis Fowl II,

I imagine you are already hard at work with the new department and, while wishing you all the best, would also like to inquire as to how soon you wish to begin the research at the Haven Library Archives. I am currently on sabbatical from my teaching position at Haven College for research purposes and thus, my schedule is my own. Due to this, I should be able to book an appointment to peruse the archives with you at your earliest convenience.

As I am sure somebody of your intellect would have already looked into my background, I feel the need to confess that I am especially eager to work with you due to my own academic interest in magically-induced temporal fluctuations. Your business partner, Holly Short, has already declined my requests for an interview several times. I don't need to remind you that your case is a unique one, and while I do not wish to make a nuisance of myself, any insight you can give me into your particular set of circumstances will be much appreciated!

Regards,

Professor Honkard D. Tweedir, K.H., W.M.M.

-x-

**INBOX:**

Holly,

How's Sass doing? Heard she was transferred to LEPfoul & figured she'd fit right in! :D

\- Foaly

**OUTBOX:**

Foaly,

Ha. Haha.

\- H

-x-

**INBOX:**

Arty,

What did I say about my couch? It's been DAYS.

-H

**OUTBOX:**

Holly;

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find an apartment that accommodates my height and location needs, while maintaining a basic degree of comfort?

-Artemis

P.S. I looked up the LEP's dress code regulations, and unfortunately there is no section about hair color, perhaps to avoid discrimination against different species. This means Pihassas's hair, sadly, is going to have to stay as it is.

**INBOX:**

Arty,

YOUR DEFINITION OF "BASIC" AND EVERYBODY ELSE'S DEFINITION OF "BASIC" ARE TWO DIFFERENT THINGS. If you are going apartment-hunting again tonight after work, I AM COMING WITH YOU. THIS ENDS.

-H

PS. Did you see her hair this morning? It's orange now. ORANGE. Clearly it is NOT going to "stay as it is."

-x-

**INBOX:**

Hey Captain Short,

Do interns receive vacation pay?

-Sass

**OUTBOX:**

Sass,

No, you do not.

-H

-x-

**OUTBOX:**

Professor Tweedir;

Thank you again for your offer. Unfortunately, my time is not quite as flexible as your own. That being said, would you be able to meet tomorrow morning for an introductory meeting to discuss my research objectives?

-Artemis

-X-

**INBOX:**

Arty,

You have been apartment-hunting for a week. One week. Seven days.

Do you care to explain to me exactly how it is you managed to get EVERY SINGLE LANDLORD IN THE CITY to warn each other about you?

If this were anybody else, I would be impressed. Only you, Fowl. Only you!

-H

-X-

**OUTBOX:**

Squirt

As your COWORKER i say we party hard tonite yes/yes?

Sass

-x-

The fluorescent lights of the Police Plaza basement were brighter this morning, Caltrop was sure. He was also fairly certain the boiler room's usual noises had increased in volume overnight. He already had a headache thanks to Sass's idea of a party the night before; the lights and cacophony were not helping.

The rest of the department was already hard at work by the time he slinked into the room. Holly was in the corner, arguing with a messenger sprite. On the other side of the room, Artemis was bent over his computer screen as usual. Even Sass had managed to arrive already; she waved cheerily at Cal before delivering a cup of sim-coffee to Artemis. The human ignored her.

Cal dragged himself toward his desk and stared regretfully at the mug in his hand until Sass trotted over. "You're chipper," he commented glumly.

"And you're glum," Sass retorted with a toss of her mane. She looked between him and his mug. "If you're so tired from last night, aren't you going to drink that?"

Cal gave his coffee another look. "No point. I got it from the break room."

"And?"

"Well, obviously the coffee you brewed in there was for Artemis and he only drinks decaf. So it won't be any help." He sighed pathetically.

Sass coughed. "About that."

He would have to brew another batch, Caltrop reflected glumly. Just because he'd finally tamed the coffee machine did not mean that he could replicate that triumph in his current state. Besides, it meant he would have to stand up again.

Sass was still talking. "'Cause I thought, after our talk last night - you know how you mentioned the decaf thing?"

Cal raised his head. "I mentioned what?"

"You know, how Foul only drinks decaf?"

The enormity of her words hit Caltrop over the head like an industrial-sized coffee maker. "Oh no. No no no! Glub - glu - go fix it right now!"

"Nope! I think I'd rather not!" she said, grinning. Both heads turned towards Artemis's desk, where their boss was just replacing his mug on the coaster. Caltrop ran through all possible scenarios and realized that none would end well.

"Come on," Cal hissed, and tugged at Sass's sleeve.

"No, I'm staying to watch," the centaur responded. "Hey, you're looking perky all of the sudden."

"It's - glub - the adrenaline," the watersprite answered and then, giving up on his fellow intern, fled the room.

-x-

The first Holly noticed of the imminent disaster was a rattling sound from across the LEPfoul office. It was low but steady, an unfamiliar hum beneath the usual metallic clatter that came from the boiler itself. She hadn't a clue as to when the sound began, but had spent the past half hour gradually becoming aware of it. Now, she couldn't ignore it.

"All right," the elf snapped at last. "What is that?"

Sass's head popped up and, behind her, Artemis jerked his head in Holly's direction. "Pardon?" the human asked coldly, adding a glare to remind Holly that she was interrupting his important work.

But Holly had found her source. Something about the twitchiness of Artemis's movements and his short, clipped tones - something about the way his desk appeared to be jiggling even now - "Artemis, you're shaking."

By the time Artemis had processed her words, looked down, discovered that she was correct, and rectified the situation, Holly had already crossed the room. "Four," she blurted without thinking, and didn't know whether to feel alarmed when she saw Artemis's eye twitch.

"It's not a relapse," the human said irritably. "Nothing like that. More of a - rush." He spoke rapidly, as though attempting to explain one of his madcap plans in under a minute. "I must have ingested something accidentally, something for which I do not have a built-up tolerance." His eyes flicked about the room, searching, analysing.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, that was when Caltrop decided to poke his head back in. He'd meant to check on the crisis and disappear immediately if it had not yet cleared; instead, he found the other three members of the department staring at him with varying levels of irritation. "Hey," he said weakly, and slunk into the room.

"The coffee," continued Artemis as though he had not noticed the disturbance, lifting his hands from the keyboard to examine them in vague irritation. "It must have been the coffee, which means -"

"Sass was the one who poisoned you!" blurted Caltrop, splaying his fingers out over his mouth as though to hold the words back in.

"No honor among cowards," muttered Holly. Sass ducked down. Unfortunately, the problem with an orange mane is the exact same as the reason one would dye their mane orange in the first place: it's impossible not to notice. Holly decided to deal with her later. As it stood, Artemis was absorbed in a failing attempt to keep his hand steady, staring at it with all the intensity of a dwarf evaluating a pile of dirt. Clearly, that was the more urgent situation. "Fowl, there's an uplink tube on the top shelf of the maintenance closet. Reach it down so we can see if there's some way to purge your system?"

"I doubt there is," said Artemis, still watching the back of his hand as though it held all the secrets of the universe. His thoughts were scattered, rolling in a myriad of directions in much the same manner as marbles dropped into a shoebox, ricocheting off the corners to collide together and careen in a new direction -

\- which was an entirely unproductive metaphor, and only served to further his irritation. He stood up and crossed the room to the closet, reached for the box on the top shelf, paused. Knowing the amount of caffeine he had ingested was far from fatal, even for him, he was still surprised at the way his vision seemed to swim -

\- no, not swim. That was simply his feet tapping against the ground, moving the rest of his body. _Oh_.

To her credit, Holly waited for Artemis to be clear of the threshold before she slammed the door shut behind him and swiped a thumb across the sensor to seal the lock. "Nobody's letting him out of there until he crashes. Are we clear?"

Caltrop gave an uncertain nod. Sass tapped a hoof against the closet door. "So, are we just going home now then, bosslady?"

"No," said the elf with a shrug. "Caltrop and I are going home early. I could report you for this, but instead I think it'd be a better punishment to clean up your own mess. Somebody's got to sit with him until this thing wears off, and the gods only know how long that will take." She grinned, and for a moment Sass could see clearly exactly why so few people were eager to mess with Holly Short. "I don't think he'll be happy with you when he can sit still long enough to glare."

"Is he trying to - is something burning?" Sass tossed her mane, turning to the door once more in a change of subject. "Is he trying to burn his way out?"

"I _can_ hear you," replied Artemis, irritated. His hand was too jittery to keep the beam of his laser pointer focused on the keyhole, and so he had only succeeded in welding the mechanism shut. Not that he would admit that for the time being.

"And you know what I'm _not_ going to be hearing tonight?" Now that she had weighed the options, the elf sounded quite chipper about the entire debacle. " You, waking me up at two in the morning because you fell off the couch."

-x-

Next Time:

_EPISODE 1.05: RIPOSTE -_ _Artemis and Holly bicker while taking down an arrogant Korean fencer. The Changeling problem gets worse._

-x-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fine, you caught us - we began work on 1.05, but didn't get to finish it because Winged is going to be travelling abroad for the next little bit. Rather than have a huge gap in posting, we decided to post this mini-episode (we've been referring to it as a "webisode," to stay true to the TV-series format we started out with) to move the story forwards a little before she leaves. We'll be back when she is, and in the meantime I'll be responding to messages sent to this account. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing - you're awesome! Yes, you. You know who you are. -Freud


	6. Riposte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 1.05: In hindsight, what happened next was nobody's proudest moment. The episode where nobody is dignified, everybody fails to find their happy place, and the Patented Fowl Glare becomes a proper noun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ri·poste: noun \ri-ˈpōst\
> 
> 1: a fencer's quick return thrust following a parry 2: a retaliatory verbal sally - retort 3: a retaliatory maneuver or measure
> 
> ~ Miriam-Webster Dictionary

It was a part of Holly Short's nature to be prepared for the worst case scenario. This had served her well in the field, as certain associates drew bad luck like a magnet to iron. Expecting the worst had become routine and, naturally, had extended to Holly's home life as well.

So it was that when Holly was woken at three in the morning to suspicious shuffling noises in the living room of her apartment, her hand went immediately to the bat she kept ready beneath the bed. In her defense, it was a very nice bat - all steel and chrome, and very sturdy. Of course, her defense was sort of the point.

A clatter sounded in the kitchen, instantly stifled by whoever was rooting through her stuff. Holly took advantage of the thief's apparent distraction to roll out of bed. The roll continued across the floor before she took position against the doorframe. Crouching with her bat at the ready, Holly reached out with her foot, nudging the door open with one toe. A deep breath to steel herself, and then she poked her head around the corner.

A dark shape was crouched on the floor next to her shelves. Holly took one more slow, deep breath, and then slipped through the door. Even half-asleep, Holly knew how to cross a room without being heard.

The intruder began to turn around. Holly raised the bat.

In hindsight, what happened next was nobody's proudest moment.

Artemis flew across the room, arms spinning as he crashed into the sofa he'd been sleeping on for the past week. The sofa rocked back under his weight before settling firmly back on its four legs. Holly lowered the bat.

"D'Arvit, Artemis!"

-x-

For all his intellect, Artemis was having a problem wrapping his brain around the fact that he'd just been hit with a bat yet his attacker claimed that it was his own fault. If he hadn't spent the last several hours meditating inside a closet, he would have been extremely irritated by this turn of events. Luckily, waiting out the aftereffects of a caffeine rush had given him ample opportunity to find his happy place.

This mindset lasted until she insisted his confinement to a supply closet was his own fault, too. In fact, Holly's first question - once she had made sure he wasn't seriously injured by the impact (and apparently the beginnings of a rather spectacular set of bruises didn't count as "seriously," either) - had been how on earth he convinced Sass to let him out. By way of reply, he passed an armful of files to the elf.

"These came in about an hour ago. Preliminary results of the scans I've been pulling out of Foaly's systems."

"And they couldn't wait until morning?"

Artemis frowned. "I was willing to wait until you attacked me with a cricket bat. But seeing as we are both awake now, I don't see any point in the delay."

Holly leveled a look at him that would have sent any lesser coworker scurrying for cover. When Artemis merely pulled out a chair at her kitchen table and sat down with his eyebrow raised in expectation, she gave in. "What am I looking at here?" she asked, attempting to shuffle through the pages before dropping them in a heap on the table.

"Technological advancements." He caught the expression on her face and hurried to add, "The data - not the papers. To save time, I staggered my searches based on population density, and uncovered an apartment block in Singapore that is drawing nearly six hundred percent too much power from the grid for it's size and occupancy. Despite this, the structure does not appear on any municipal records. Singapore plans urban development very carefully, as approximately 85% of the city's population lives in government housing. Given the vast number of permits and building codes to be followed, then, it's impossible that this is a simple oversight. My systems automatically cross-referenced this location with census data, and -"

Holly cut him off by yawning loudly. "Fascinating stuff that could have waited until morning. And how did you get in here, anyways? _I changed the locks._ "

"I noticed that. Thank you." His expression suggested the exact opposite of gratitude. "The point is, I know who we're looking for."

He paused in an attempt to make her to ask for clarification. Instead, the elf just crossed her arms and waited. A minor staring contest ensued, broken only when she yawned again. "Great. And they'll still be there in the morning."

"Actually, no. The individual in question, one Park Myung-Ki, is a top-seeded foil fencer. He is a favorite for Singapore's Olympic team; were it not for disqualification due to age, he would have competed in the last Games. As it is, Myung-Ki flies out this afternoon to attend a tournament -" Artemis paused for emphasis, "In America. If we take the first shuttle out, we will be able to intercept him; if not, it will be weeks before he returns home."

Holly rolled her eyes and strode back into the living room to retrieve her bat from where she'd dropped it next to the shelves. "That settles it, then."

Artemis noticeably flinched as she picked it up. "Settles what?"

Holly hefted the bat and gave a sigh. "We're going to Singapore."

-x-

Dodo Feldspar had been fired from every job she had ever had.

This was due not to poor job performance. Rather, it was her personal policy: Never quit anything. Ever. She was a dwarf, and felt wishy-washiness was a rather unbecoming trait for anybody to possess. When she decided it was time to change careers, rather than submit a notice or request for transfer to another department, Dodo simply dove headlong into a campaign to convince her superiors to fire her.

She was now on job number eight, working nighttime security at one of Haven's many public shuttleport docking stations, and had decided two months ago that it was time to move on. Her boss felt otherwise; until two months ago her work had been exemplary, and he still hoped that whatever had happened to his star employee would prove to be transient.

Dodo had other plans. She surveyed the mismatched duo before her, and grinned. Here, she knew, was a golden opportunity to make a point.

"Are you nuts?" hissed her pixie coworker, Jax.

"Oh, I know. You'd have to be a complete moron not to recognize the two of them." Her grin widened. Jax decided it would be in his best interests to go on break - he didn't want any blame for what was about to ensue.

-x-

"You'd have to be a complete moron not to recognize the two of us," Artemis said coldly. "I've played along with your game, I've given you my papers. I'm on a tight schedule and this is a waste of time."

The dwarf hummed non-committally and shuffled the documents again. "Do you think I'm stupid?" she asked, "A human coming through at this time of night? _A human?_ I don't know what you're trying to pull but it's not going to happen. Not on my watch." She smiled broadly, displaying a magnificent set of teeth.

Holly grit her own teeth together and slid her badge across the table for the third time. "Look. I'm LEP. This is official business."

Dodo waved a hand to gesture to the badge pinned lopsidedly to her vest. "Look. I'm security. This is as official as it gets."

"That's it," growled Holly, pushing her chair back from the table to stand up. "I'm phoning my superior. He will talk to your superior, whom I doubt will enjoy the conversation. Your superior will then have a talk with you, and you will proceed to open this gate and let us through. Any questions?"

"And when my superior refuses to open this gate," said Dodo brightly, "Make sure you tell your superior to take his official documentation and shove it up his -"

Artemis chose that moment to cut in. "As interesting as I'm sure that would be to watch, we are on a schedule." He stood up. "We've shown our documents. There is no legal reason to hold us here. We're going through and you won't -"

It was Holly who saw the danger first, as usual. Her fingers rapped a pattern of four on the table's surface. Artemis interpreted this as a warning to shut up and, surprisingly, did.

It was actually a warning to duck. Dodo's buzz baton hit him square across the nose.

-x-

"Do, you are dot allowed do fid id. You'b done enoub."

"Fowl? You sound ridiculous. Shut up."

They were in the bathroom of the shuttle as it made its way up to the surface. Artemis was busy inspecting his broken nose in the mirror while attempting to use one hand to keep Holly at bay. The elf, in contrast, was attempting to reach a hand to his nose for a magical quick fix.

Artemis reached for a towel to clean the blood off his face and Holly took her chance. Darting forward, she nearly made contact before Artemis jumped back out of reach. The ensuing scuffle was anything but dignified, as Artemis attempted to use the hand towel as a shield against the determined elf.

"Dug?" Artemis yelped in the midst of it all. "Why wud four tabs mean _dug!?"_

Holly swatted at him again, and missed. She glowered. "Four taps mean _watch out_ , which you obviously did not!"

She finally gained the upper hand by clambering up onto the sink. For a moment the elf paused, taking aim. Artemis's eyes widened in the realization that there was nothing he could do to stop what was coming.

Holly lunged, hands outstretched.

The two of them ended in a heap on the floor. There was an instant of stunned silence, shattered when his nose snapped loudly back into place. It was a gruesome sound, and even though she was a veteran at healing broken bones, it still made her wince.

It was as though the sound was a signal. They sprang apart at the same time, at which point Holly knocked her head against the counter. She looked up and met Artemis's eyes sheepishly. "You still have some..." she began, gesturing vaguely at his face to indicate the blood that remained.

Artemis buried his face in the towel and counted to five. When he finally lowered the towel to peer over at the elf, his voice was pure ice. "Next time you need me to duck, it _might_ be more effective to say so."

-x-

"Hey, who finally gave up and punched the Mud Boy?"

Sass sounded far too chipper for such an early morning, especially considering that she had been awake for half the night. She was met by the Patented Fowl Glare - this time in stereo, as Holly had adopted the expression as well. It translated well considering the conversation was taking place over a video link. The camera managed to catch every detail, right down to Holly's rumpled hair and the blood stain on Artemis's shirt.

"Caltrop," said Holly after a moment of awkward silence. "What's that behind you?"

The watersprite shifted to the side to reveal a rather dumpy looking gnome. "It's an, uh, intern. A new one. Erm, I mean, it's not an intern that's Sass or myself, but - uh - a new one that just kind of showed up this morning? Um..." His words trailed off.

"Well, can you tell it to go away?" When nobody spoke, the Glare returned until Caltrop slowly turned around to face his new coworker.

"Um, go away?" The gnome reluctantly moved out of frame as Caltrop twisted his hands nervously. "So how is Singapore?" he asked with forced cheer. "Sass mentioned that was where you were, um, headed?"

Holly's mouth twisted sourly. Artemis's eye twitched. "Just tell Foaly to get on the line," he bit out, before ending the call.

Sass laughed and turned away from the camera. "Free time in the office!" she brayed, and caught sight of the gnome glowering in the corner. "Oh, don't worry, we'll train you."

-x-

"Singapore. Why am I not surprised?"

Artemis twisted his earpiece as Foaly's voice came on the line. "Yes, Singapore," he sighed. "You have our location?"

"How did you even get there so fast?" Foaly asked. "I saw you both in the office just last night. Weren't you locked in a closet or something?"

Holly smirked. "Yes, Foaly. He was."

Artemis was poking at his earpiece. "Are you having trouble with the line? Your voice is cutting out."

"I hear him just fine," Holly noted smugly. "Maybe you broke your earpiece. Could be a trend, you breaking things."

Artemis was not amused. "If it broke, it was probably when you jumped me."

"Wait, she did what?" Down in the operations booth, Foaly perked up.

"Never mind," growled Holly. "We're here now. Fowl's convinced he's found another Changeling, I've got the field kit ready to go. We'll go in, wipe the kid, and be gone within the hour. I just need you to erase us from the feed, Foaly."

Artemis frowned. "I never said I was convinced. I said I thought it was likely."

"You dragged me to Singapore on a hunch?"

"And you're surprised by this?" piped in Foaly. He was promptly ignored.

"I don't have hunches. I create theories. And I needed to be on-site to determine whether my _theory_ was correct."

"You dragged me to Singapore on a _theory?"_

By this point, Foaly had hung up. He _theorized_ they would call him back when they sorted out a course of action. After two minutes had gone by without either earpiece lighting up, he tentatively reopened the line.

" - just like with the squid -!"

"That is completely irrelevant -"

Foaly sighed heavily and hung up once more. He'd wait until later to ask who finally gave up and punched the Mud Boy. Whoever they were, he made a mental note to see if they were in the market for a new job. After all, he didn't imagine LEPfoul's new intern would last for long.

-x-

Foil fencing was an intelligent sport, and that was why Park Myung-Ki preferred to channel his energies into such an athletic pursuit. This was something that could not be said about all sports; in fact, he was of the opinion that most of them consisted of nothing more than smacking an air-filled sphere about a flat field of turf until either one group or another managed to attain some obligatory goal, or until a clock ran down to end the spectacle. Foil fencing had three advantages going for it, then: it was an individual contest, it was elegant, and it was _smart_.

He was also of the opinion that foils were the only weapons worth fencing with. Sabres were undeniably less elegant - hits could be scored with the edge of the blade, and not merely the tip, and so one spent more time attempting to avoid contact with their opponent altogether rather than in attempting to outmaneuver them. By the same token, he'd always found épée blades too heavy, placing too much emphasis on brute physical strength and offensive showboating rather than carefully controlled maneuvers. He was a strategist, after all, and so anything less than a strategist's game simply wouldn't do.

Yes, Myung-Ki was a teenager of very discerning taste, and he knew he was born to be a foil fencer. It was half a wonder that he did not decide to take up chess or some other purely intellectual pursuit, but then, he always did enjoy getting his hands dirty.

One thing he never did convince himself to enjoy, however, was packing. Tournaments were wonderful; preparation for them less so. After all, he was still a teenager. Clothes were tossed into the suitcase with little care or precision, with a selection of light reading shoved into the outer pockets. His fencing gear was placed in a duffle; Myung-Ki did take effort to organize this, as each piece was vital to his success.

His best foils were handled with extreme care due to the advanced technology he had incorporated into their systems. He'd come up with the schematics himself, based on designs he'd lifted from the alien civilization that had taken up residence in the Earth's crust. The technology would enable Myung-Ki to gain extra points in a fencing match, should he ever begin to fall behind.

It was against regulations to use one's own foil in the tournaments, of course, but Myung-Ki had long ago come to the conclusion that switching out the foils was merely the next step in such an intense game of wits. Besides, the alien technology was near-undetectable to any who wasn't looking for it. A fool-proof method to ensure he would attain his top status in order to make the next Olympic team.

Besides, even if he were found out, nobody would suspect the technology's true origin. The ensuing scandal would rock the fencing community, to be sure, and he would proceed to make a fortune off the ensuing patents.

Fool-proof, indeed.

-x-

"And this is the boiler unit," Caltrop told the new intern, bringing his tour of the LEPfoul offices to a close. He patted one of the pipes in faux-affection and hissed at the subsequent burn. "Don't - uh, don't touch the metal," he added as blue sparks sprang from his fingertips to target the injury.

The gnome rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression implied that only a complete idiot would think to touch the pipes of a boiler unit. Caltrop saw this, interpreted it correctly, and turned to Sass for help only to find that the centaur was asleep at her desk.

"For Frond's sake," the watersprite hissed, and stalked across the office to poke at his fellow intern. "Sass, wake up. Sass. _Pihassas_."

Her eyes flew open at the sound of her full name. "You'd better not have just said what I think you just said."

Caltrop backtracked nervously. "Said what? I was just, er, saying your n-name. Sass. Because that's what I call you. Because I _don't_ have a death wish."

"He called you Pihassas," tattled the gnome, choosing this moment to reveal that he could actually speak if so inclined.

Caltrop exercised his right as most senior intern by glaring at the gnome. "You - sit down," he said firmly, before adding, "Uh, if you'd like."

The gnome didn't move. Cal turned back to Sass, who was stretching and yawning loudly. "I was having a great dream, you know," she said irritably. "I was on the gang squad, taking down a pack of goblins." She mimed aiming a blaster, making sound effects as though firing. "Pew! Pew! It was awesome."

"That's great," Cal said weakly. "Do you want to show, uh... " He turned back to the gnome. "What was your name again?"

The gnome leveled him a steady glare and said nothing.

"Um. Show our new intern the coffee machine?"

"Do you _know_ how rough my night was?" Sass asked with a flip of her mane. "I was up half the night babysitting Artemis! It wasn't so bad most of the time - I just played some games on my computer - but then his machine made some noise and he was hounding me to check results and find a key and then it turned out that the lock had fused and I had to go hunting for one of those emergency fire axes but by the time I got back, he'd already gotten out and disappeared."

Caltrop was interested in spite of himself. "How did he get out?"

Sass shrugged and waved a hand to the closet, where the door was still half-open. "I dunno. Used a laser to cut out the lock of the door or something? Don't ask me how he got a laser in there. Left his desk in a mess, too."

Nodding sympathetically, Caltrop turned his gaze to the boss's desk. Sure enough, the papers were scattered over the surface, as if the caffeine had still not completely left Artemis's system when he attempted to flip through his files. Even the cup of pens had been knocked over, although Cal suspected that was Sass's fault.

The mess did give him an idea, though. "Tell you what," he said to the gnome. "Enough with the tour. You get started on cleaning up that mess and I'll go make everyone some coffee."

With one last glower, the gnome shuffled toward the desk. Cal smiled brightly at Sass. "I think I'm getting a sense of this whole intern-training thing," he whispered proudly.

"I think I'm going back to sleep," retorted Sass.

-x-

There was a section in the LEP handbook that specifically told team operatives to stay on one channel throughout the course of a mission. Holly had skimmed the handbook briefly. Artemis had read it once, thought it was a load of drivel, and never referred to it again. This wouldn't have mattered if Foaly had not decided to put his copy to good use by propping up one leg of a lopsided desk.

Thus, when Artemis and Holly finally split up yet continued to bicker over the comm link, Foaly made an executive decision and put them on separate lines. It meant wearing two headsets at once, which he didn't mind. It also meant listening to two streams of complaints from either side, which he minded quite a lot. Luckily, Foaly had had plenty of practise in sustaining conversation without actually paying any attention to the topic at hand.

"...as if he knows everything! I understand technology is important but you can't figure everything out by looking at a panel of switches and wiring. Sooner or later you're going to have to question an actual person. And _I_ can't do it, which means I have to sit around and babysit the kid while Artemis plays around with wires. It's a waste of time!"

"Uh huh," said Foaly. "Hang on a sec, would you?" He reached up and turned the right headset off, before flicking the left on. "Find the electrical panel yet, Artemis?"

"Not quite. There was more security around the basement than I'd anticipated, although I have managed to bypass it, of course. Obviously, someone doesn't want people looking at the schematics of the building's technology, which means I was right to come here first. You'd better let Holly know. I don't know why she insisted on finding Park first when this is what we came to check. And I've finally managed to access the panel - one moment while I confirm my _theory_." The last two syllables dripped with sarcasm.

"Right," Foaly said. "Hold on a minute, there." And he switched the lines back to Holly's channel. "Fowl said he's found what he's looking for, and he was correct about the -"

"Great. Tell him to destroy the fairy tech, and get back up here." She folded her arms with a snarl, watching through the window as Myung-Ki loaded his duffel bag with various fencing equipment. "Park's getting ready to move."

"I'm not your messenger," Foaly whinnied, but switched back to Artemis's channel all the same. "Holly says-"

"Tell her I'm not planting an EMP in the basement of a currently inhabited building," said the human without looking up from the control panel. "Somebody would surely notice. As important as it is to remove any trace of fairy technology, _I am sure Holly would agree_ that it's more important to do so without being detected, and -"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Unhappily, Foaly raised one hand to each ear, switching both comms off at the same time. A deep breath, and then another, as the centaur tried in vain to find his happy place. Instead, he found himself internally cussing out Commander Kelp for even approving LEPfoul in the first place.

A good long moment passed before he reluctantly turned them back on. Taking off first one headset, and then the other, he set them both deliberately down on the desk before him. Satisfied, his tail swished behind him as he left the comms booth. Holly and Artemis would be able to hear one another over the distance between the headsets, and hold down the fort on their own for a minute.

_I have SO earned a cup of coffee._

-x-

Really, he'd expected Foaly to stop replying to him sooner. It was just like the centaur to pout, after all. So when he stopped responding to Artemis's running commentary as he closed the control panel once more, the human didn't worry.

"I'm going back upstairs now," he announced to the empty room, reaching to adjust his tie. It was a futile gesture, as there hadn't been time to wash the blood from it; he'd simply removed the tie and shoved it in his briefcase for later cleaning. At a younger age, Artemis would have never considered such an act. Older and wiser, he had more or less resigned himself to the fact that it seemed to be impossible to remain tidy while in fairy company.

He was still not quite wise enough to resign himself to the fact that this was probably his own fault. Instead, he reached down to pick up his briefcase once more, and turned to leave the basement.

-x-

Really, she'd expected Foaly to stop replying to her sooner. It was just like the centaur to pout, after all. So when he stopped responding to Holly's running commentary as she hovered outside Park Myung-Ki's window, the elf didn't worry.

On the other hand, she was slightly concerned over the fact that nothing had exploded yet. It was an alarming thought to have. Since when had her life taken such a drastic turn? Oh yeah, since _he_ showed up. And _he_ had always been perfectly fine with leaving a path of wanton destruction in his wake, so she couldn't understand why _he_ had to choose today to change his ways.

In other words, she was still fuming.

Park was still packing his fencing gear, and showed no signs of leaving the room anytime soon. Holly made a decision. With Foaly off-line and the comms disconnected, she had no way of telling Artemis to stay put; clearly, she needed to reach the basement before he disentangled himself from the wiring. And then she'd set off the EMP, whether he wanted to or not.

-x-

The lobby of the apartment was fairly mundane, as far as apartment lobbies went. Two faded couches and a decorative side-table that had suffered more scratches than a pixie in combat were the extent of the furnishings. It was the sort of lobby that discouraged loitering, designed for residents to enter through the front door and walk straight to the lift - or stairwell, if so preferred.

Artemis did not prefer the stairwell, but the lift had been designed to go no lower than the main floor. He'd taken the stairs to the basement with all the dignity that one can muster while bickering childishly over communication lines. Now, having investigated the electrical grid and found his clues, Artemis emerged into the lobby once more.

He made a beeline for the lift doors. The Park apartment was located on the top floor of the building and Artemis had no intention of taking more steps if a lift was readily available. Sure, he had to wait a minute as the number over the doors ticked down, but he spent the time mentally preparing for the conversation he would have with the Changeling in question. When the lift arrived, he stepped inside, pressed the button for the top floor, and brushed an invisible crumb from his rumbled shirt's sleeve.

The doors slid closed behind him.

Half a minute passed. The lobby remained silent, ignored, and completely mundane. That is, until the front doors of the building opened seemingly on their own. Only a slight shimmer of the air was visible to the naked eye, of which there were none. The shimmer was not inclined to wait around for someone to arrive and notice it, either, but headed straight for the steps that led down to the basement.

The number over the elevator turned to fifty.

-x-

Locks did not act as an obstacle to Artemis, who had developed lockpicking skills under the training of a kleptomaniac dwarf and had the amorality to use them. It took barely a minute to shut off the electronic lock and then fiddle with the keyhole before the door slipped open. Artemis rolled back his shoulders, replaced his picks in his pocket, and stepped inside.

Waiting for him crosslegged on the floor, with his arms folded and a fencing foil on each side, was Park Myung-Ki.

"You could have knocked, you know."

Knocking had honestly not occurred to Artemis. It didn't help that past experience had taught him that if there were an easy way to accomplish a task and a hard way, it was always the more expedient course of action to try the hard way first. After all, the easy way was practically guaranteed to fail - considering it as an option at all generally just led to sloppy planning. There was once a time when he had sworn by Occam's razor, but those days had long since passed.

Still, Artemis recovered quickly. "Hello," he said mildly, eyes skimming the room in search of Holly's shimmer. "I'd like to talk with you about -"

"Sorry to interrupt what I'm sure is a carefully constructed cover story prepared for exactly this contingency, but you're here about the alien technology, aren't you?"

Artemis coughed. "Pardon?"

"There's been an odd shimmer outside my window for the past twenty minutes. Either it was an oddly localized humanoid-shaped heat wave, or a technologically advanced cloaking device. Only someone from the alien civilization would have that technology on hand. As no contact was initiated with me then, I made an educated guess that I would soon have a visitor. It seems I was right."

"Alien civilization?" Artemis repeated, a little incredulously. He reached to straighten a non-existent tie. "Well, it just so happens that I've been sent by this alien civilization to talk with you about the technology you stole."

Myung-Ki gave the gangly, dishevelled young man a skeptical once-over. "You?"

"I admit, it's not a turn of events I would have anticipated, either." Artemis was starting to realize what he sounded like to the rest of the world (and, by extension, why he had such problems making friends amongst his peers). At least encountering these Changelings was proving to be an eye-opening experience.

"I'll save you the hassle of talking in circles in an attempt to find out what I know," Myung-Ki said. "I have no intention of revealing information regarding your alien civilization. I want a spot on the Olympic team and I want the technology to ensure it happens."

Artemis glanced down at the fencing foils. "You rigged the equipment. And if someone catches you?"

"I am clever enough to cover my tracks - no one will catch me."

"Except, apparently, for me."

Myung-Ki narrowed his eyes before he rose to his feet, a foil in each hand. "I'll make a deal with you. I won't tell anyone about your civilization so long as you don't reveal my advantage. We both win."

"I don't take deals where I have the most to lose," Artemis retorted. "Hand over the technology, and we'll leave you alone."

He really should have phrased it better than that. In his defense, he really had expected Holly to intervene before now.

Myung-Ki appeared to consider the offer, looking down to study the foils he held. He took a step to the side, twirling one of the foils lightly. "You want the technology?" he asked, shifting his hold on the foil so its handle was extended to Artemis. "Here, catch."

The foil flew in a slow, perfect arc, rotating once in midair. Artemis cringed, raising both hands in self-defense. He did not entirely know what he hoped to accomplish by this, as there was a near zero probability of his reflexes and hand-eye coordination cooperating with each other for long enough to actually enable him to catch the projectile.

A moment later, Artemis stared dumbfounded at the foil that had somehow appeared in his hand. "I caught it," he said, sounding almost proud at the thought.

"Yeah," said Myung-Ki, thoroughly unimpressed as he lifted his own foil. "En garde!"

" _What?"_

-x-

Foaly was feeling much better by the time he returned to his desk, a piping hot cup of sim-coffee clutched tight in his hand. He'd gone all the way down to the basement level break room to fetch it - the extra distance gave him time to regain his composure, and the coffee down there was the best in the building. He took an appreciative sip, burned his tongue, and settled down in his custom-made swivel chair.

The comms were just where he'd left them. Foaly set his coffee to the side before lifting the devices to secure them back over his head. "All right," he said cheerfully, "Sorted out your differences yet?"

Silence greeted him.

A wave of cold apprehension washed over the centaur. "Hello? Holly? Artemis? Come in?"

Nothing but the sound of his own beating heart.

Hands trembling, Foaly removed the comms again and stared down at them, wondering if the feedback loop had somehow shorted them both out, leaving Holly and Artemis without means of communication. What he saw was much worse - somehow, when he'd set the comms down, he'd neglected to actually turn them back on. Which meant that not only were Holly and Artemis without communications, but it was all his fault.

"D'arvit!"

Foaly flicked the power button on each comm and secured them both over his head again. "Holly? Artemis?" he asked with forced cheer.

From Holly's line came the sound of sudden swearing. "Oh sure, _now_ you decide to turn the line back on," she growled. "Where's Artemis? He didn't stay in the basement."

"Let me check," Foaly told her meekly. "Artemis? You there?"

"Frond's sake," Holly cut in, "Just put us on the same line again, already."

In no position to argue, Foaly did as he was told.

"Artemis, you had better not have gone up to Park's apartment," Holly began as soon as the line was connected. She received no answer.

"Maybe he's ignoring you," offered Foaly.

Holly ignored him.

"Or he took off his comm?" the centaur continued. He pulled up the data on his computer. "The data says the device is still active. He's up on the fiftieth - oh. Oh, no. That's not good."

Holly, already halfway up the stairs from the basement, didn't bother asking for clarification.

-x-

Artemis ducked beneath the striking foil and felt the comm device fall out of his ear. He could have attempted to retrieve it but defending himself from a world-class fencer was taking up all his limited coordination skills for the moment. Even limited was a stretch, as Artemis was merely employing a method known to most as "duck and cover." He was just happy Butler wasn't around to see him.

On the other hand, it would have been nice if Butler were there to step in.

Myung-Ki, by contrast, seemed to be having the time of his life. He pivoted on one heel, swinging his foil in a flourish as his heel crunched down hard on Artemis's comm. Artemis winced, but then there was no more time to think as his opponent feinted forwards.

Perhaps it was Artemis's complete and utter lack of hand-eye coordination that kept the match going for as long as it did. After all, Myung-Ki was used to facing opponents of the highest calibre. If fencing was a match of wits, it did help to be able to predict the actions of one's opponent. Artemis, having never held a fencing foil before in his life, didn't seem to have gotten that memo. His movements were increasingly erratic and desperate, countering parries by lashing out blindly with the foil and reacting to lunges by scurrying backwards. When recounting the events of the day in his journal, this particular sequence of events would most definitely be glossed over.

So, as disappointing as this match was to Myung-Ki, he was enjoying the ability to toy with Artemis. As far as the Olympic contender was concerned, it all balanced out in the end.

They'd circled around the room twice already due to Artemis's attempts to avoid the foil. Artemis was flagging, and had begun to formulate a plan of survival - bolt through the door at the soonest opportunity. Objectively, he knew this was not in keeping with the goals of his mission, as it would leave technology in the hands - literally - of Park Myung-Ki. On the other hand, this "fight" half of the "fight-or-flight" instinct really wasn't working out so well for him.

Unfortunately, Myung-Ki seemed to have caught on to his - well, he could hardly call it a plan. "No running!" he shouted, darting forward once more with the foil. "That's cheating!"

If he had the breath to respond, Artemis may have pointed out that Myung-Ki was the one who had insisted upon using rigged foils in the first place. Instead, he just slipped backwards once more, half a step closer to the door.

-x-

Standing shielded in the doorway, Holly Short did not have a clear shot.

It was a moment of mixed emotion. Part of her was vaguely impressed that Mud Boy had managed to get himself into a fight in the five minutes since they'd lost contact, and wondered if she'd been a bad influence on him. She was also a little impressed that he hadn't yet managed to trip over his own feet and impale himself upon his own sword.

This was drastically outweighed by the fact that, despite their continual protests to the contrary, apparently humans had not yet entirely abandoned the whole concept of settling disagreements by trying to kill each other with pointy sticks. Also the fact that she still did not have a clear shot.

The elf tapped her fingers twice against her blaster in irritation, and had an epiphany.

-x-

Somebody knocked four times on the doorframe. Myung-Ki paused mid-lunge, his gaze darting to the empty doorway.

Artemis didn't bother pausing. He heard four taps, interpreted this as a warning to duck, and - surprisingly - did.

-x-

Holly wasn't completely sure whether Artemis had understood her warning and dropped to the ground, or if his feet had finally gotten tangled and sent him sprawling across the floor. Either way she had her clear shot, and took it without a second thought.

-x-

Once Myung-Ki was down, it was easy enough for Holly to retrieve the foils - and Artemis - from the floor.

"Thanks," he said shortly, more due to an inability to catch his breath than anything else.

Holly shrugged and pocketed her blaster. "It was you who ducked."

In unison, they turned to the renowned fencer and the rigged foils to begin the monumental task of cleaning up the mess.

-x-

The ride back to Haven was quiet as neither Artemis nor Holly were ready to have a conversation, even if they had somehow entered a reluctant truce.

At one point, Holly holed herself up in the furthest corner of the shuttle from Artemis in order to make a call. Ceasefire or not, she was not about to pass up the opportunity to make his life just a little bit more difficult.

Juliet answered on the first ring. "Hey, Holly! How's life in the underground?"

"You wouldn't _believe_ what almost killed Artemis today!"

"Oh?" Juliet shifted in her seat, leaning forwards with a grin. "Do tell."

-x-

The next day, Artemis arrived early to the LEPFoul office. As much as they had first protested the location of their department, the thrumming of the boilers slipping into gear for the morning was almost soothing. At his elbow rested a mug of decaf Earl Grey tea, and he sipped it slowly as he ran through the projections his systems had compiled overnight. He always was most productive before noon.

"We need to talk, Mud Boy."

And then the moment was gone. He did not turn around to greet Holly, his voice low.

"If this is about the incident in Singapore, I had been operating under the impression that we had a mutual agreement to leave that in the past?" All the same, Artemis closed down his screen and stretched. He hadn't quite managed to remove all the debris from the surface before Holly hopped up to sit on it - in the future, he really would have to ensure that all interns knew to leave his work area untouched.

"Yes and no. Last night, I called Juliet. Thought she'd find the fencing story funny, but while we were talking, she finally told me the real reason you've been coming to Haven alone these last few weeks."

Artemis barely stifled a groan. "I suppose you're going to insist on talking about it, then."

"Yes, Arty, you suppose right. This explains a lot. You're worried for Butler's health, disappointed that it took you so long to determine that he was unwell, and angry that he didn't tell you about it sooner. That's how I'd feel. And, making matters worse, it's frustrating to be unable to pretend it doesn't bother you." Holly folded her arms across her chest, her gaze level. Surprisingly enough, it was Artemis who blinked first. His usual reaction to such psychoanalysis involved a combination of sarcasm, deflection, and application of his own studies on the topic. Coming from Holly, however, the assessment simultaneously cut deeper and was easier to stomach. He found he had no defense.

"Perceptive," admitted the human after a moment's pause.

The elf flashed a grin. "Artemis Fowl, you forget that I've been trained to read people. More than that, _I know you._ It turns out it's impossible to fix something that's been broken without getting a fairly good idea how it works."

"I resent that."

"You shouldn't. Look - I'm not your parents, your bodyguard, or your therapist. I'm your friend. I'm worried about Butler too, but there's nothing we can do about that other than to keep him from worrying about you. So, here's something that always cheers me up." Her hand drifted to the weapons belt at her waist, a twist of her wrist freeing Artemis's LEP-issued Neutrino from where she kept it. The Neutrino was useless to her, of course, being coded to the human's DNA, but she had reluctantly agreed to carry it close at hand all the same. Now, she set the weapon down on the desk between them. "Good old-fashioned violence."

" _Pardon_?"

She really did try not to laugh at the expression on his face. "Don't look at me like that, Mud Boy. I booked us two lanes at the shooting range. You've been issued a weapon, but that doesn't mean you could hit the broad side of a troll if your life depended on it. It'll set Butler's mind at ease to know you're working on your aim, and I'll probably sleep a bit better, too, knowing you're not going to accidentally shoot me in the back." She paused for emphasis. "Besides, we've already established that fighting with pointy sticks isn't exactly your strong point."

There was a lot Artemis could have said in response to that, and so he settled for sarcasm. "I wasn't aware it was possible to discern which side of a troll is supposed to be the broad one." He nonetheless resigned himself to the bout of target practice. He supposed, all things considered, it would be a good experience for him. Holly beamed.

"You've met enough of them, you tell me."

"You've - you've met trolls!" piped a bleary-eyed Caltrop from the doorway. He'd clearly just arrived for the morning. One hand clutched a mug of warm sim-coffee; the other reached to adjust his gill tank, bubbles rising from it in alarm.

"So many trolls," said Holly with a smirk. "It's why he never leaves home without a troll contingency plan."

"You're joking, right?" The poor sprite didn't quite seem to know if he should be fascinated or terrified. His gills fluttered in uncertainty.

"Really, Chlorella," said Artemis. "You should know by now that I never joke about anything as serious as trolls. Come to think of it - if a troll were to storm this boiler room, how would you respond?"

"What?"

"Think about it. I know what I'd do, and I expect a proper answer from you, as well. My laser pointer may help you with that but it seems to have gone missing." Artemis arched an eyebrow. "Have it figured out by the time Holly and I return from the shooting range."

"Wait!" Caltrop looked as though he might faint. "They actually trusted you with a gun!?"

-x-

Next Time:

_EPISODE 1.06: DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE - Foul Team has to catch up with Demia and Becquerel when a mysterious source leads the two Changelings underground in a bid to force the LEP's hand._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the obligatory mid-season crack episode. Also the episode where everybody rediscovers their inner five year-old. Can you tell?
> 
> Also, I know we tend to promise fic and then not deliver, but Winged and I are in unanimous agreement: the "Mulch teaches Artemis how to properly pick locks" one-shot WILL be forthcoming, and soon.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for reading! -Freud
> 
> Speaking of promising fic, I'm working on my version of Maps again. Apologies for letting Freud promise it would be up soon when obviously it's taken longer. Hopefully, if things work out, I'll get it up before the next episode of FT. We'll see.
> 
> In other news, for anyone who's interested, Freud and I are both participating in the 3 Sentence Ficathon (link through our profile). All sorts of fandoms are showing up there, so we encourage you to join in - it's super easy and a ton of fun!
> 
> Thanks again for the R&R. You all are amazing! - Winged


	7. Down The Rabbit Hole (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EPISODE 1.06: Foul Team has to catch up with Demia and Bec when the two Changelings discover an abandoned shuttleport. The first of the two-part season finale.

"Yeah? Well, I've heard that department is an absolute nightmare."

The dwarf sighed heavily, waving her LEP-issue employee tablet in the air. "Look, I just got started here this morning. Found out that I've been assigned to LEPfoul. I just need to know where I'm going, please."

The secretary nodded earnestly."I'm just saying, LEPfoul's got trouble written all over it. No, literally. Kelp signed the form authorizing the department in the first place - nobody's got the faintest idea why he did it, either."

"Uh-huh."

"And don't get me started on their intern problem! Department's been around for months now, but they haven't been able to keep any interns for more than a couple days -"

"Look, I -"

"Well, thaaaaat's not quite true, I guess. They do have one they've managed to keep on board, but runour has it that's because he'd be sent right to prison if he quit! Well, and that centaur but I'm still not convinced they aren't just on babysitting duty when it comes to her. Between them all, why, I don't know if they've got a single person who doesn't have a criminal record! I tell you - wait, what was your name again?"

"Dodo," said the entirely unimpressed dwarf.

"Right, Dodo! I tell you, Dodo, I pity any poor sap who gets assigned to that mess of a department. I'd rather be put in the goblin division!"

"I see." By now, Dodo could tell that the secretary was not going to be much help. Time to improvise. "You're right, of course! You know, _I've_ heard that their offices are a mess, too!"

"Oh, definitely! They're stuck all the way in the boiler room in the basement. I don't even know - wait, where are you going?"

-x-

With the exception of her multiple campaigns to be fired, Dodo Feldspar had never been late to work - especially on her first day to a new job. She prided herself in making a strong first impression for her new employers.

This time, apparently, she'd already managed this somehow. Two days ago, Dodo had received a call from the hiring department of the LEP to ask whether she'd ever considered a career with the police. As far as she knew, Dodo had never done anything to warrant such attention but was flattered all the same.

 _"I would love to accept,"_ she'd told the representative on the other end of the line, _"But I have a job. And I don't ever quit."_

 _"Too bad you have that other job,"_ was the rep's response, accompanied by a downcast whinny.

 _"Too bad, indeed,"_ she'd agreed, and meant it. And the next day, Dodo had been called into the main office at the shuttleport where her boss told her that, regrettably, he would have to let her go. He did not look pleased. Dodo was ecstatic.

But just because she had made some sort of impression on an anonymous employee of the LEP didn't mean she would allow herself to be late on her first day. Even with the delay caused by the gossiping receptionist, Dodo managed to find her way to the boiler room a good quarter of an hour before her scheduled shift began.

The door was locked.

The dwarf stared up at the sign on the door, where the bold-typed **BOILER ROOM** had been crossed out by a felt pen and replaced with a neatly printed **LEPfoul**. This, too, had been crossed out, with _The Foul Team_ scrawled beneath. Dodo was beginning to develop an uncomfortable sense of foreboding. But she was nothing if not resilient, so the dwarf pushed the feeling to the back of her mind and wiggled the door handle once more. It didn't give.

That was when a water sprite turned the corner. "Oh!" he squeaked, and scurried forward a few steps before the large plastic bin in his arms slipped from his grip to spill its contents across the floor.

Dodo sighed and moved forward to help him clean up the mess. The bin had been filled with a collection of office supplies, snack foods, and - "Birdseed?"

"Trust me, we need it," the water sprite sighed. He awkwardly adjusted his water-tubes and squinted up at her. "Say, I haven't seen you around before. New?"

"First day," Dodo affirmed, scooping the last set of styluses into the bin before gesturing behind her. "Is there someone coming to open that door?"

The water sprite visibly flinched. "You've been assigned to Foul Team?"

-x-

It turned out that Dodo wasn't the only new intern. Thirteen minutes after she'd been let into the room by the water sprite, two pixies had stumbled in behind them - _four minutes late,_ Dodo noted. Their names were Shyrill and Ambryn, they were dressed head to foot in fluorescent pink, and they giggled every time the water sprite - who introduced himself proudly as "Caltrop, senior intern" - addressed them. _Incredibly unprofessional._

Dodo didn't say anything, of course. But she watched, and took note of the little things. Like the closet door with a hole cut out where a lock should be. Or the empty desks that apparently belonged to the head of the department and her official consultant - both of whom were nowhere to be seen. Not to mention the centaur with the bright green hair that showed up an hour and a half late, rolled her eyes at the sight of the three new interns, and bolted from the room again.

Roughly half through the second hour of orientation, the computer at the consultant's desk chimed loudly. Caltrop ignored it.

"... and there's only one computer terminal for the interns, so we have to share. Only Sass will probably take more than her alotted time..."

The computer chimed twice more in quick succession. Dodo waited for Caltrop to pause his speech but it was as though the water sprite hadn't even heard the alert. She raised her hand.

"... so someone will have to come up with a new schedule now that there are three more of us and - uh - yes -?"

"Shouldn't someone check the computer?"

Caltrop winced. "That's n-not a good idea. W-we don't ever t-touch, uh, that desk. Or anything on it. Um, is that clear?"

Perfectly, the interns said. The computer chimed again and all three made a show of ignoring it. And when Caltrop turned his back to show them where the coffee supplies were kept, Dodo unobtrusively sat down in the consultant's chair and poked the computer to disengage the screen saver.

It took several minutes before Caltrop noticed. "W-what are you d-doing?" he cried, aghast.

Dodo was busy scanning the results displayed on the computer screen. "The computer was still giving alert signals. What if it's something important?"

"Something i-important?" Caltrop repeated, wringing his hands. "We're the, uh, interns. We don't d-do the important stuff."

"How did you log in anyway?" asked Shyrill, who thought the insubordination much more fascinating than orientation.

Ambryn bobbed eagerly. "Are you a hacker?"

Dodo frowned. "The access codes were in the information packet I picked up from the front desk."

Shyrill and Ambryn were impressed. Caltrop was just shocked. "The front desk has information packets?"

-x-

In the three months since confiscating Myung-Ki's rigged fencing equipment, Artemis had fallen into a rather unusual commute. Weekdays were spent belowground, working with LEPfoul and their ever-revolving roster of interns. The patterns of circuitry within the fencing foils had led to a particular manufacturer of the pilfered technology, which had led to another security breach, which had led to an entire series of escapades spanning most of Asia. After that had been tied up, Artemis's systems pinged with the recognition of another human anomaly, sending them off on another adventure before anybody had the chance to catch their breath. It was surprisingly satisfying work, and he'd almost stopped complaining about spending the nights on Holly's couch.

Almost.

In return, Holly had almost stopped complaining about him not yet having his own apartment.

Almost.

On weekends, he made the commute back to the surface to spend time with his family and pursue projects of his own. After Singapore, he had even reluctantly hired a fencing tutor for private lessons (which were going about as well as could be expected). This week, with his father out of the country on business and his mother playing host to a charity gala in Milan, Artemis had left for home on Thursday night, meaning that Friday morning could be spent with the twins.

At six years old, Myles Fowl was proving every bit as resourceful as his older brother, tugging Artemis by the arm to show off his latest invention.

"I noticed last week that nothing electronic ever works quite right where the fairy roses are, and I wasn't quite sure why so I wanted to find out," the boy explained, having to take two steps for each one of Artemis's. Artemis, to his credit, just smiled. He, of course, knew exactly what was causing the problem in that particular segment of the grounds - not that he could tell his brothers anything about it. Even if he could have explained about magical residue, Myles was so engaged in this project of his that Artemis saw no harm in encouraging him.

"That's an interesting observation. What did you decide to do?"

"Well, I wanted to find out why, so I built this!" Myles stopped abruptly, reaching into his pocket and removing a small, metallic cube. "It's going to measure the atmospheric electrical currents to see if that's what's causing the problem, and if it is, show me where the source of the interference is. I went through the schematics for the grounds, and I don't believe there could be anything buried there, but there might. Right?" He bounced, once, on the tips of his toes.

"I suppose there could be. We'll find out soon enough."

"I've had this built for days now," Myles confessed, turning on his heel to face the roses. "Wanted to wait until you were here to see if it works."

"I'm sure it will, and if it does not, I'm positive we'll be able to fix it," his older brother reassured him, already calculating the logistics of burying a cable line under that particular segment of ground without disturbing the soil. "Exactly how did you manage to assemble the casing for the device, Myles? I thought mother did not want you playing with the arc welder any more."

"Oh, no, she doesn't, so I didn't. I thought you knew? Beckett gave it to me and said that you said that I could use that pen of yours to solder the edges of the metal together." He rummaged around in his pocket once more, withdrawing the pilfered laser pointer and returning it to Artemis. As he did, Myles gave such an angelic smile that Artemis knew he actually believed nothing of the sort.

"I see. After we're done here, I think I'll need to have a talk with both of you about boundaries. Again." He paused to tuck the laser pointer safely in his own pocket, making a mental note to ensure Beckett and Mulch never crossed paths. He was fairly certain Beckett would, if pushed, happily follow in the Fowl footsteps and pursue quite the illustrious criminal career.

Artemis's work phone, kept on-hand at all times in case of emergencies, vibrated once. He frowned, reaching for it and answering the call before it could ring again.

"Holly?"

"Actually, no. I'm calling from the LEPfoul offices? I'm a new intern, this is my first day."

"I see." He did not bother extending a greeting, assuming that - like all their other new recruits - she would be gone by lunchtime. "What's the problem, then?"

"Well, I'm sitting at your computer, and it's making this odd pinging sort of sound? I think there's some sort of situation, but I'm not entirely certain what it -"

"You're sitting at _my_ computer? I see. Put Chlorella on the line."

"I can't do that, I'm afraid. He ran away when he saw I was calling you, but this looks important. Something about a Becquerel Jones? It's -"

"Forgive me for asking," interrupted Artemis, who had just experienced a particularly chilling epiphany, "But you sound like a security guard who broke my nose several months ago."

The ice in his voice made Dodo give a little squeak. And here she had thought that her morning couldn't possibly get worse. "Oh no, it's you? I was - well, I was trying to get fired at the time?"

"Congratulations, you've succeeded. Forward the information on to this number, and then I want you out of my department. Understood?"

Dodo gulped. "Yes, I do."

They both hung up without another word. After a moment, Artemis reluctantly turned to his younger brother. "I'm sorry, Myles, but I need to go make another phone call."

-x-

Holly's phone rang. This was a particular annoyance now, of all times, as she'd finally managed to secure a morning to sleep in. Reluctantly, she ventured a hand out from beneath the covers of her bed to touch the phone on the bedside table before it could ring a second time.

"This had better be important, Fowl," she grumbled.

"Are you still asleep? For shame, Holly," he chided. The elf sat up in bed.

"I repeat: this had better be important."

-x-

The interns were still crowded around Artemis's computer an hour later, doing their best to figure out how to forward the information to the boss. Dodo hadn't yet budged from the chair, leaving the others to awkwardly reach around her as they attempted to peck at the manual keyboard.

"It's so old school," muttered Ambryn in fascination, pulling her hand away before Dodo could swat at her again.

"So you've said," the dwarf replied sourly. She still hadn't recovered from the phone call. "Alright, so we've saved it as a document. How do we attach it to the email?"

The pixies shrugged.

"Caltrop?"

He sighed heavily. "Don't ask me. Sass is the one who does all that stuff. Maybe if you press that... button... there?"

Dodo pressed the button and nothing happened.

A new voice sounded behind them. "It's okay, guys. Take your time. Not like that data could be important or something."

The interns all spun around. Standing behind them, her arms crossed and her toe impatiently tapping the floor, was Holly. She surveyed them all for an instant, sighed, and said, "It's the third button from the end."

Dodo spun back around and located the button in an instant. With two clicks, she attached the email and sent it off. Then, slowly, she turned back to face her boss.

Holly sighed heavily once more. "Listen up, team. This situation is important and I don't have the energy to deal with you today. I don't even know why you're here - I gave you all the day off."

Caltrop looked up hopefully. "You did?"

"Too late. You're here now, you work." Holly looked the group over again. "You two, go find someone at the front desk to give you a tour of Police Plaza. Feldspar, I believe you've already been told to leave the premises. Chlorella - where did Sass go?"

"I'll find her," Caltrop said quickly.

Holly gave a short, satisfied nod. "All right. Dismissed."

With varying degrees of enthusiasm, the interns fled from the room. The pixies made it through the door first, while Dodo and Caltrop both tried to leave the room at the same time. The ensuing pileup in the doorway took several elbowings, a scathing glare from Holly, and an infinitely awkward moment to sort out.

It was no surprise that Shyrill and Ambryn reached the elevator first, and almost equally as expected when they failed to hold the door for the two hapless interns behind them. It was only when Dodo heard the groan of the door start to close that she snapped out of her reverie, and nearly dashed the last ten feet to the -

"No!" A hand on her wrist, tugging her back hard.

"Hey, watch it!" Dodo twisted to try and free her hand, turning to find herself face-to-face with a pale-faced Caltrop. Above them, something screeched.

"She's here!" wailed the sprite. Dodo, ever the pragmatist, simply pressed her other palm to the water sprite's arm and ducked, dragging him with her to the ground. The screaming canary shot overhead, disappearing into the elevator just as the door slid shut.

As the lift departed, they could hear the screams of the other two interns echo through the metal.

"Poor souls. We'll never see them again," said Caltrop, sadly. Dodo pushed herself up off the ground.

"She won't - should we be calling somebody? They're - the canary isn't capable of killing somebody?"

"Lucia hasn't killed anybody - yet. I think, though, that those interns aren't going on that tour. They'll quit." He dragged himself to his feet more slowly than Dodo, despondent. "They always quit. Every last one."

"Every last one?"

"Except for Sass. I wish Sass would quit."

"But you haven't?"

"Only because my work here is the only thing keeping me from being sent to prison." Caltrop shook his head. "And even that wouldn't be so bad if Lucia didn't know where the cells are. She has it out for me, you see."

"Uh-huh." Dodo studied her new coworker for a moment, folding her arms across her chest. "I think, Mister Chlorella, that you just saved my life."

"I - wait, you think I did?"

"Oh, of course. Just because Lucia hasn't killed anybody yet doesn't mean she won't in the future. I might very well owe you my life. You're a hero!"

"Hey, yeah, that's right!" Caltrop straightened, adjusting his gill tank. "You know what - wait, what was your name again?"

"Dodo," said the dwarf, with remarkable patience. She'd already had to remind him four times.

"Dodo! Coffee on me today! I'm a hero!"

 _Maybe,_ she thought over a mug of some of the best coffee she'd ever tasted, _I should stick this out, firing or not. They_ can't _actually be allowed to fire me on my first day. Clearly, Caltrop needs a friend._

-x-

**INBOX:**

Mr. Fowl Sir,

Here's the data you requested.  
We tried saving it as a report first!  
which kind of failed  
But we think we've managed to attach it now.

Sincerely,  
Caltrop

Attached: [7 FILES]

-x-

"Yes, Beckett, I understand that you wished to help with your brother's project, but you could have found a way to do this _that did not involve stealing._ "

Myles had clamored up on Artemis's knee, which detracted from the severity of his lecture. When the phone buzzed on the table beside them, it was Myles who got hold of it first. "Is this the email you were expecting?"

Artemis plucked his phone from his brother's hands. "Quite possible. Excuse me a minute." He swiped his finger over the screen and navigated to the email.

Beckett had leaned over to read along. "What language is that?"

"Fairy," Artemis said with the heaviest sarcasm he could muster.

Myles hummed thoughtfully. "Do they know they attached seven copies of the same report?"

The phone buzzed again. It was another copy of the same email. An instant later, a third copy came in. Artemis sighed heavily and slid his phone back into his pocket. "Interns," he explained.

"Ah." Myles nodded wisely. "Interns."

"Definitely interns," agreed Beckett, who didn't exactly know what interns were but had heard more than enough stories about them to have an opinion on the matter.

-x-

It took Artemis four minutes to get the faultily-named attachments to open, thirty-four seconds to skim the information they contained, nearly eight minutes to convince the twins to entertain themselves while he sorted out business related to his work, and six minutes to meet with Butler in the hangar of the Fowl jet.

"We need to go. Facial recognition software installed in a security camera in Killarney sent an alert to my systems over an hour ago. We've found Becquerel Jones, and he's not alone."

"He's with Miss Carter?" surmised Butler.

"Naturally."

"Isn't Killarney only forty minutes away from a shuttleport?"

Artemis nodded. "Unfortunately. We need to intercept them - it'd take too long for Holly to make her way aboveground. I'm not certain yet what their objectives are. Holly's set the interns on attempting to decode the surveillance tapes we've pulled from Carter's home, but that could take some time. Even then, the proximity of their location can't be coincidental."

"No, it can't." Butler paused for a moment, furrowing his brow. When he resumed speaking, his voice was gentle. "If you suspect they're headed for a shuttleport in order to go belowground, I can't follow you. I won't risk leaving you in a position where you would be heading into danger alone. We don't know what their intentions are. I'll remain at the manor with the twins, and Juliet will accompany you in pursuit of Carter and Jones. If you need to follow them belowground, she'll be able to go along with you. Artemis, I told you I would inform you the moment I could no longer fulfill my duties and keep you safe. Here it is. That's my recommendation."

The words hit like a buzz baton to the nose, and for a moment Artemis simply blinked. Going into a situation aboveground without Butler by his side simply didn't feel right, but Butler had said -

Artemis took another look at his bodyguard's face, but could not bring himself to speak. He simply nodded in assent.

"I'm sorry, Artemis."

"Don't apologize," the young genius replied, somewhat testily. "This is not your fault." He swallowed hard, regaining control of his emotions once more. "Please, though, do me one favour."

"Yes?"

"Please tell Myles I'm sorry I could not spend the afternoon helping him fine-tune his invention."

"I will."

And nothing more needed to be said.

-x-

"It's no good. These systems - glub! - they're too old, they won't download data from the surface properly. There's some kinda interference, too. We establish a connection but every time those _things_ over there do anything loud, it d-drops." Caltrop gestured to the boilers with an especially disgusted crinkle of the nose. As if to make sure somebody empathized with him, the water sprite then cast a glance over to where Dodo was sitting on her knees, putting the finishing touches on the brand new lock she'd attached to their supply closet. "I could deal with the system up to this point because they've always got that centaur running all the surface connections, but - glub! - he's not in today. The scary elf's gone to try and track him down, but until then we're on our own and our p-programs just won't run properly!" He smacked the desk, despondent.

"Easy, now. It's not the keyboard's fault." Dodo stood, dusting off the knees of her trousers. "Stop hitting it like that."

"Oh. Sorry. It's just these boilers, if they weren't _here_ then I could do my job!"

Luckily for them all, Sass chose that moment to finally make a reappearance. She'd assumed as it was past lunch time, the daily crop of interns had likely cleared out. Upon seeing Dodo she likely would have turned and fled the room once more, but something in Caltrop's voice piqued her attention.

"Oh, hey, Shrimp? You need something taken apart?" She cracked her knuckles. "Sounds exactly like my kinda thing. One time at a LEP summer barbeque -" Sass broke off there, examining the edge of her fingernail with a low whinny. "Maybe I should save that story for another time."

It was probably coincidence that the boilers chose that moment to emit a particularly loud whine. Probably.

"They sound afraid of you," Dodo remarked.

Sass grinned broadly. "They should be."

-x-

The entrance to the shuttleport was visible when the Land Rover pulled up, which was never a good sign. The sleek and modern structure was clearly out of place on such a wild terrain. Of extra concern was the fact that Artemis could not detect a single shimmer in the air around the port - were any fairies in the vicinity, they had no idea that the shields were down.

Artemis brought his phone to his ear. "Holly? I can see the port - literally. Send a message to security that their shields are down. And could you notify them that I'm on my way inside before they try and stop me?"

The hesitation on the other end was not encouraging. "It's Dodo, actually," said the intern. "E46 is one of the ports that's been shut down ever since the Techno Crash. Automatic shields were put in place but everything is run by systems. Something must have shorted out."

Artemis refrained from asking why she was still in the LEPfoul office. "Can Foaly fix it from belowground?"

"Foaly - that's the technician?" Dodo asked. "Holly's searching for him now. So far, he's nowhere to be found. Just our luck that it happened today."

Juliet had already exited the vehicle, checking the area for any signs of danger. Artemis waited until she pulled open the door before stepping out onto the hillside. "No luck involved. If the shields are down, it is because Jones and Carter have already made their way inside. I'll follow with Juliet, fix the systems, and keep the two Changelings out of trouble until you can send a team to the surface." He paused, then added dryly, "Or do you need someone with a higher authority to allow surface access?"

Dodo wisely chose not to argue.

-x-

Dodo had been right - the shuttleport was completely deserted when Artemis and Juliet made their way inside. As was standard LEP protocol with abandoned aboveground operations, a tiny swarm of nanobots rushed towards the open door, glimmering in the air as they settled against the tiled floor to clean up any dust before it could come to rest. They did their job well, erasing Artemis and Juliet's footprints completely before the two humans were even halfway across the open foyer. Behind them, the door swung shut with a pneumatic hiss.

"Handy," commented Juliet, attempting to move out of the swarm's path. The bots had other plans, settling on her shoes to clean off any traces of dirt.

Artemis, on the other hand, held still until the bots were finished with him. He glanced up to the nearest security camera. "Someone needs to tell Foaly these are less helpful when we're attempting to _track intruders."_

That was when his phone rang.

"Intruders, huh? Art, I'm kinda hurt," said the unwelcome voice on the other end of the line.

Artemis peered up into the security camera. To his left, Juliet had already slipped out of frame, heading - he surmised - to the security booth that would have given Becquerel Jones access to the feeds. Nothing to do now but keep him talking. "Hello, Jones."

"Oh, come on. Now I'm really hurt. You aimed your dwarf at me - we're on a first name basis now, whether you like it or not."

"You didn't know it was a dwarf last time. Someone's been doing their homework, I see."

"As if! There are not many things that are capable of that kind of explosion. The taste in my mouth when I woke up -"

"Oh, no, this again?" A young female voice piped up in the background.

"Hello, Demia," said Artemis evenly.

"Wait, so she merits a first name?"

" _She_ didn't shoot me with a tranquilizer dart."

"Yeah, well, _you_ threw up in my van!"

 _He's goading me,_ Artemis realized with a jolt. _These taunts aren't just childish, they're personal - he needs to keep me talking._ And then, just as certainly, _he's not in the security booth._

It wasn't difficult to deduce where the teens had gone instead. If Becquerel was attempting to delay Artemis, then they would have an alternate exit. And the only other exit from the shuttleport -

The lights all dimmed and flickered from a drain in the power supply. Artemis did not need to be an expert in shuttleport engineering to understand the cause - someone had diverted power from the main systems to charge a shuttle. There wasn't much time to lose.

There also wasn't any way to warn Juliet without alerting the teens that Artemis knew where they had gone. He glanced once more at the security cameras, then turned his attention back to the flickering lights. "Old wires," he commented casually. "I'm surprised there's any cell phone signal in here."

"Fascinating technology, isn't it?" Demia gushed. "It's almost more interesting than the magic!"

"Indeed." Artemis began to casually pace the room, subtly drawing near to the camera's blind spot. "I can't help but wonder what you are planning to do with it."

"Why would I do anything?" Demia asked, "I just want to learn about it. Like I said, it's absolutely fascinating!"

Artemis glanced up again, estimating angles. _Almost there._ "And yourself, Jones? Simple curiosity?"

Becquerel paused for a moment as Artemis finally stepped out of frame. "You know, now that we're here, _I'm having a hard time remembering._ "

 _Demia's mind wipe. They want answers._ Artemis didn't see any point in drawing out the charade any longer - he hung up the phone and ran.

-x-

"Hello, yes, hello!" called Foaly from the other side of the door. Holly waited to be let inside - nothing happened.

"Foaly? It's Holly. We've got a Changeling problem and I've been looking for you all day. Hurry up."

The door still did not open. "Changelings, eh?"

Holly froze. "Oh no. You don't say "eh." _Is this your artificial intelligence?"_

"Actually, can it be _my_ artificial intelligence if I _am_ the artificial intelligence?" asked the voice philosophically. "Dude, I just tripped myself out!"

Clearly, the experimental personality chip was still on the blink. To say that Holly was unimpressed would be a gross understatement. "You have thirty seconds to put Foaly on the line before I come in there and blast you a new interface."

"Oh, believe me, I know. Foaly put a tag on your file explaining that you'd totally threaten me with violence at some point. He also said not to worry cause you usually don't follow through with it. Anyways, I can't help you. Caballine imposed a strict no-tech rule on their weekend getaway. Left me at home taking care of the kids."

"You're babysitting? They trust you to - ?" Holly was horrified on a number of levels. Unfortunately, she had bigger problems to worry about. "You know what, never mind. Don't answer that. See what you can do about getting a message out to Foaly anyway. I'm heading back to the office."

"Will do, friend!" the AI assured her cheerfully. "Good luck with your Changelings and have a _wonderful_ day!"

 _Oh, that's precious_ , Holly thought as she jogged back down the front steps to the road. _Foaly invented artificial sarcasm - because we didn't have enough of the real kind._

-x-

After the Techno-Crash, the People had gone through and systematically stationed shuttles at every single one of their ports, active or not. With an entire civilization on the verge of discovery, it was well worth the time and money needed to ensure that every fairy - no matter where they were located on the surface of the planet - had a way home if they needed it.

Killarney's port was no different: a lone shuttle sat docked in the bay, held in place by clamps that glowed silver with the incoming surges of energy. At the other side of the room, Demia and Becquerel clustered around a control panel, arguing in hushed voices over the Gnomish symbols that flashed upon the screen.

The nanobots had so thoroughly cleaned Artemis's shoes by this point that they squeaked loudly against the tiled floor when he took another step forward. He froze as both Changelings looked up at the same time.

Demia was the first to recover. "Hello, Artemis! I'm glad you're here - talking face-to-face is so much nicer than over the phone. We don't have time to learn the fairy language. I wanted to learn their language, it's so pretty-looking with all the symbols, but Bec said we needed to get moving so I didn't. So, do you know which button means 'go'?" She smoothed down her skirt with both hands as she talked, her eyes bright with excitement.

Becquerel didn't bother with conversation, vaulting over the control booth to hit the floor with both feet. He kept the momentum, racing towards the shuttle. Artemis, closer to the docking bay and already out of breath, only barely beat him to it.

"Oh, look! I think found the 'go' button!" Demia grinned broadly as she hit the button.

Several things happened at once.

Lily Frond's automated voice sounded throughout the bay, speaking in rapid Gnomish. "Welcome to the Refugee Automated Flight System! The RAFS shuttles are designed for easy use. If this is not an emergency, please leave the docking area. If this is an emergency, please select the command button once more to confirm."

"What's it saying?" Bec called across to Demia, then looked up to Artemis, who had positioned himself in the doorway of the shuttle in an attempt to block the entrance. "You know what it's saying."

Artemis and Demia both shrugged.

While the exchange was taking place, the docking clamps shifted. No longer a cool silver, they now pulsated an angry red in time with the siren that now blared throughout the shuttleport.

"The button's glowing again. I should probably hit it one more time?" shouted Demia over the alarms.

"No!" replied Artemis.

"Do it!" said Becquerel at the same time.

Demia shrugged and hit the button again.

-x-

Alone in the security booth on the other side of the facility, Juliet lifted her head and swore colourfully before bolting down the hall. Even with the distance between her and the shuttle bay, she nearly made it to the doors before they sealed shut in preparation for launch.

Nearly.

-x-

"Thank you for choosing the RAFS! You now have one minute to board the shuttle before launch. As this system is designed to be easy to use for any fairy at any time, there's no need for previous flight experience - don't worry about steering the shuttle, and it will guide itself safely home! Alternately, if you wish to choose your own destination, simply place your hands upon the steering controls to engage manual mode. Happy flying, and thank you again for choosing RAFS!" Lily Frond's voice paused for a moment, perhaps to allow the listener to imagine her blinding smile. When she resumed talking, it was to initiate a countdown. "Sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight..."

No matter the language, it is generally fairly easy to tell when a countdown has begun. Demia's eyes widened as she stepped out from behind the control booth. "What did I do?"

"You initiated the self-destruct. The system is programmed to reject a human touch," said Artemis immediately, still doing his best to block the doorway into the shuttle. "We need to leave this place!"

Behind him, the docking clamps released with a hiss of steam as the shuttle engine roared to life. A pathway on the floor lit up, as well, small dots of light leading an obvious invitation into the shuttle itself. Becquerel raised one eyebrow. "I see."

"Well, it was worth a try," replied Artemis.

"Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight..."

Demia was skipping along the lighted trail as though it was a hopscotch, each rainboot landing with a squeak to cover the dots of light as she went. "How long is the countdown?"

Artemis did not answer. If neither of the Changelings knew how how much time was left, there was a chance he could delay them long enough for the shuttle to leave without anyone on board.

The countdown was nearing its end. As Lily Frond reached ten, the lights flashed with increasing urgency. Demia gave a squeak of surprise as her rainboot landed upon a light that was no longer there.

"Hurry up," Bec told her, "It's reaching the end of the countdown."

"Yeah, I noticed!" she exclaimed, and dashed the remaining distance. Artemis expected her to stop behind Bec, and prepared to fend them off for the last few critical seconds.

She did not stop.

Instead, Demia leapt up onto Bec and wrapped her arms around his neck. Her momentum, coupled with Bec's surprise, pushed him forward into Artemis who was unable to withstand the combined weight. All three fell in a heap on the shuttle's floor.

"Two, one!" finished Lily Frond triumphantly, and the shuttle doors slid shut.

Bec groaned and attempted to crawl out from under Demia, managing to knee Artemis in the stomach as he did so. Artemis groaned, the breath knocked out of him.

"What was that for?" Bec snapped at a grinning Demia, who had popped back onto her feet to smooth out her skirt once more.

"Well," she said brightly, surveying the two other Changelings, "neither of you two looked like you were going to move, and the voice sounded urgent. So, I took initiative!"

"Is _that_ what you call it?" grumbled Becquerel. Still laying winded on the floor, Artemis made a sound that was probably some form of agreement with Becquerel's sentiment.

This would go on record as the first, last, and only time that the two of them ever agreed upon anything.

-x-

While protocol dictated that staff avoid the commander's office unless directly invited to step within, Commander Kelp prided himself on a more lax approach to this side of the LEP handbook. In all honesty, he probably had not read those chapters. Instead, he had taken several summer seminars on corporate culture which all stressed the same ideas: accessibility and easy communication. Kelp had embraced the philosophy with open arms and an open door.

So when Holly Short stepped into his office, he did not think much of it. "Short. How's everything down in LEPfoul?"

Holly coughed awkwardly. "Well. Um."

Kelp felt the first trickle of concern. "What did he do?" There was no need to clarify who he referred to.

Holly took a deep breath. "Strictly speaking, I don't think this one was his fault."

"And what exactly _is_ 'this one?'"

Three interns pushed through the doorway to crowd anxiously behind Holly. That was the moment Kelp began to second-guess his open door policy. "Right." He stood up, both hands flat against his desk. "I want everybody out of here by the time I count to three. Except you -" he pointed to a sodden-looking sprite with a magnificent set of gill tanks. "I can intimidate the full truth out of you. Everybody else, out!"

-x-

After promising Artemis that neither of them were stupid enough to touch any of the automatic flight controls, Demia and Becquerel went about the business of barricading him inside the shuttle's lavatory. This was actually fine by Artemis, who only gave a modicrum of resistance to keep up the impression otherwise. After all, the flight path of the automated shuttle was predictable enough, and he trusted the rest of LEPfoul to ensure that there would be a team waiting to pick up the Changelings the moment the stolen shuttle docked. Nothing to do now but wait.

Judging by the way the shuttle thrummed gently, no grinding of gears or sudden movements, Becquerel and Demia must have decided to trust the autopilot. Artemis caught himself nearly smiling at the look of contempt Holly would surely have on her face if she knew about an entire shuttle network designed to fly itself. The fact that Lily Frond was the spokesperson for this interface would have been an extra thorn in Holly's side, and Artemis made a mental note to be elsewhere when the elf discovered that particular detail.

An hour and a half after the shuttle began its descent, there was a gentle knock on the door. "Artemis? I know it's probably a seriously bad time to be doing this, but can we talk? Because Bec's told me lots of stuff and he really is a sweetheart, but I feel like he's only telling me what he thinks I need to know. You're smart, so I think we should cooperate and you should tell me what's really going on."

He lifted his head. "Fair enough. I can't see how deception would help either of our causes at this point. Please, tell me what you want to know. I'm all ears."

"Bec says I used to know that the fairies are real, but they made me forget. And he says you helped them."

Artemis gave a small nod, even though she couldn't see him. "I see. If memory is identity, you're wondering if you are who you believe. If you don't know what you've done, you can't possibly know who you are." He shifted a little, touching his forehead with his fingertips. "Jones may have made me out to be your enemy, but I do understand that particular sentiment."

"But you were involved in taking magic away from me. If you know what that feels like, then why would you -" The girl broke off, swallowing hard. "I just wanna know the truth, Artemis."

"Demia, what you have to understand about the People is that their entire way of life depends on their ability to remain hidden. Everything they have and everything they are would fall apart if they were exposed. That's why they altered your memories. It's a harmless enough procedure, as the human mind fills in the blanks itself. You were never in any danger."

The door swung open with a click. Demia, her face blotchy and her lips pursed, looked down at Artemis for a moment to study his face closely. "Tell me the truth, please. Did I do anything to them? The fairies, I mean. Did I do anything to hurt them? I'm clever enough to have hurt them if I'd wanted to, but - well, did I?" Her hands twisted together, and Artemis looked down.

"No. You didn't."

"Oh." She plopped down in the doorway, her skirt billowing about her like a parachute. "Oh! You did, though, didn't you? You did something, and so they took my memories before I even had the chance. But then why are you here, now, helping them?" The girl paused for breath, tracing her fingertips along the tulle folds. "It's something about us, Bec and I, and you too - we're much too clever to be normal humans, and you're trying to figure out why, aren't you?"

Artemis could tell there was nothing to be gained by resistance. "Exactly. We're smart, you and I - and Becquerel, as well. The fairies were wrong to wipe your memories. Work with me now, Demia." His voice was earnest, blue eyes softening a little. "Work with me to get this shuttle landed somewhere safely, out of harm's way, and trust the LEP. Trust me. I'll get you back your memories."

"And you can do that?"

"Demia, when I set my mind to a venture, it tends to succeed." His voice and face were, for once, entirely open. Entirely honest. "Work with me now, and I promise you that I will do everything in my power to ensure your recollections of the People are restored."

He wasn't exactly lying. Artemis knew there was no way the LEP would allow him to follow through on that particular promise, but he also knew that Demia did not need to know that. He could promise to do everything in his power and hold to those words by the letter - it just wouldn't make any difference. Artemis knew that if there existed a possibility to resolve this situation without further drama, it was worth the small deception. Even with that logic, it made his stomach twist a little with guilt to see Demia's eyes light up.

"Deal. You know, that's all I wanted? The truth." She extended her hand, and Artemis shook it. "Come on - let's go talk to Bec."

-x-

A set of recordings had been set to play every thirty minutes as a reminder for passengers of the in-flight rules. Lily Frond was just about through the third repeat of the Gnommish message - "And if you wish to engage manual mode, please -"

If he hadn't been concerned over accidentally crashing the shuttle, Bec would have already tried to find a way to turn the announcements off. Sitting in the pilot's chair with one thumb folded over the other, his head was tilted back so that his ponytail hung over the back of the chair. He had to slouch down pretty far for his head to even hit the headrest, his spine contorted to the dimensions of a chair designed for a fairy pilot. "Demia," he said without turning around, "I _told_ you not to let him out!"

"You're not the boss, and I think he can actually help us!" Demia, leading Artemis by the arm, bounced on the balls of her feet for a moment, feeling the thrumming of the shuttle echo up through the thin rubber of her shoes. "Besides, I'm smarter than you, so there! He can read what's up on that screen, so we need him to tell us if there's a warning or something important there!"

"Uh-huh." Bec looked from one face to the other, his nose crinkled. "A warning of what, exactly?"

"Well, a warning about the autopilot, or maybe a warning that we're going somewhere where people will know where we are? If it's programmed to fly the same way every time, then it doesn't take a genius to figure that one out!" She beamed.

That was when the screen crackled to life.

-x-

Kelp was not happy.

As if a shuttleport breach were not problem enough, a shuttle had launched without any trace, and it had taken three humans with it. One of them was Artemis Fowl, and the other two were individuals that Artemis Fowl felt the need to deal with personally. He hadn't needed much of a conversation with LEPfoul's most anxious intern to figure out that this was clearly a problem.

By the time he tracked down an individual with the technical expertise to hack into the stolen shuttle's camera feed, Kelp was downright livid at the entire situation. He was starting to understand why Commander Root had constantly been the shade of a beet; in fact, his own complexion was doing something similar by the time a video link was established.

"Fowl!" Kelp barked in Gnommish, taking in the sight of the three occupants of the shuttle. "What is going on here?"

Artemis looked impressed. "That is eerie," he responded in the same language, "Have you been practising your Root impersonations, Commander?"

Obviously, he was not in serious danger. This just made Kelp angrier. "Fowl, you have thirty seconds to tell me what is going on."

Before Artemis could respond, Becquerel sat up and cut in. "Art, what's he saying?"

"Fairies have the gift of tongues!" Demia piped up.

"Yes, we're aware of this," responded Commander Kelp in perfect English before directing his attention back to Artemis. "Fowl, what is going on?"

"Hey, now. Not cool!" Bec sprung up from the chair, rocking forward a little bit to keep his balance against the movement of the shuttle. "You know, there's two of us and one of him! Technically, he's our hostage, so you negotiate with Miss Carter and myself, not Artemis!"

Kelp shifted back. "Is that so? Fowl, are you feeling threatened?"

Artemis folded his arms. "Not especially, no."

"Right. This is how it's going to be, then. When the shuttle lands, you will not disembark. All three of you will sit on your hands and wait for a team to collect you. Nobody will try anything funny. We have the location of your vehicle and are tracking it as we speak. This situation is under our control, not yours, so go back to twiddling your thumbs and wait." Kelp paused, slipping back into Gnommish to address Artemis one last time. "Fowl, we will have serious words about this later."

"I don't think so." Becquerel Jones sat down in the pilot's seat once more. "I don't know what you just said to him, but I don't like it."

As if to make a point he reached for the steering controls, grabbing both joysticks at once and pulling them both backwards, steadily, evenly. It was exactly the same way one would brake a car in a videogame, and exactly the last thing he should have done.

"Autopilot disengaged," announced Lily Frond's chipper voice. "Have a happy flight!"

Kelp watched, helpless, as the scene before him dissolved into chaos. As the camera was mounted to the walls of the craft, the room itself did not seem to change. Instead, it appeared that the three humans simultaneously flew to the left, and then fell upwards to the ceiling. Someone swore. Someone else screamed. Somebody squeaked.

A moment later, an upside-down Artemis entered the top of the frame. "Call you back," he panted, and before Kelp could say another word, the screen went dark.

-x-

Without automatic stabilizers to handle the roaring air currents within the chute, the shuttle had entered freefall.

Artemis landed on the roof of the shuttle, still clinging with one hand to the pilot's chair as he attempted to use the other to type a command into the communication system. Behind him, Bec was still screaming, while Demia was attempting to crawl towards her friend.

The comm screen cleared to reveal the LEPfoul boiler room. It was almost unrecognizable without the boilers. Holly was in the centre of the frame, looking over the camera as she wrapped up a lecture to the interns.

The shuttle bumped again and Artemis's arm slipped as he was thrown backwards once more. For a brief instant, he may as well have been twelve years old again, trying desperately to hold to the side of a speeding train above the Arctic Circle. The flashback passed; he reached forward once more to the communication box. "Holly!"

"Please tell me you're upside-down because we're having interference problems again," said the elf, watching as Artemis began once more to slide out of view. In the background, Demia had managed to reach Becquerel, grabbing for his hand. She leaned in against him to say something; he finally stopped screaming.

"Holly!" repeated Artemis, another bump nearly sending him flying across the shuttle once more. "Autopilot - how do I fix it?"

"What model of shuttle are you in?" Seeing the chaos on the screen, Holly was completely composed. It wouldn't do them any good to lose her head now.

"RAFS!" Artemis gasped before losing his grip once more on the pilot's seat. He flew out of frame, and something inside the vehicle crashed; it was a tense few seconds before the top of his head popped into view again on the left side of the screen. In the background Demia and Becquerel huddled together, wedged behind one of the passenger's seats to try and minimize their movement.

"Right. Arty, there should be a panel beneath this communications console. Get it open - third switch to the right should do it."

Artemis didn't bother replying, conserving his breath. Instead, Holly watched as, inch by inch, the top of his head travelled slowly down the left side of the screen. The vehicle rolled once more in freefall, buffeted by the air currents roaring around the small craft, and all three Changelings were thrown to the other side of the room. Bec began to scream again. At least this time they seemed to have landed right-side up, as Artemis momentarily regained his footing. He popped up briefly before ducking down beneath the camera to pry the panel open. In such an old vehicle, the console hadn't been opened in years - it stuck.

"Fowl! Status report!" barked Holly.

"Won't open!"

"Well, you're the genius, so figure it out!" Back in the boiler room, Holly's knuckles were white.

"Wait - Myles!" exclaimed Artemis, reaching inside his jacket pocket for the laser pointer that his brother had sheepishly returned that afternoon.

"Is it open yet?" asked Holly once more, taking his statement as confirmation of a plan. Artemis twisted his wrist a little bit, aiming the laser beam to slice down the hinges of the door. It melted through the metal effortlessly, and the panel sprung open.

"Found it!" he replied, reaching for the button.

-x-

She almost knew the shuttle would crash the moment before it did. After all, nothing was ever that easy.

The shuttle jolted one final time, slamming all three Changelings against the ceiling of the craft. Becquerel Jones abruptly stopped screaming, and for a moment the video frame froze entirely. The next second it had gone completely dark, though the audio persisted for a little while longer. Metal screeched as the craft hit the side of the chute, the exterior of the craft crumpling on impact. The sounds of shattering rock persisted, louder than the shuttle's collapse. Artemis was yelling, but she couldn't make out his words through the din.

"I can't hear you, Artemis!" she yelled into the console, leaning forward to try and make her own voice audible.

"Holl -" Artemis began again, before the screech of tearing metal cut him off.

Then the audio feed died, and all was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (To be continued in the season finale...)


	8. Troll Contingency Plan (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EPISODE 1.07: Season Finale. Foul Team races to the crash site, and they'd better have a troll contingency plan ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors' Warning: As the season finale, expect mood whiplash and emotional turmoil. This carries on directly from 1.06, so make sure you've read that first or the team's current crisis may not make sense!

The LEPfoul boiler room was silent, the disassembled boilers unable to whine an interruption. The interns stood in a row in the centre of the room, staring stunned at their leader.

Holly did not speak. Nor could she move, her eyes frozen on the blank screen before her. _Not again,_ she thought desperately, _not again, not again -_

It was Dodo who moved first, reaching a hand to tentatively touch Holly's arm. The elf jerked out of her reach, blinking hard. "Caltrop," Holly said sharply, without even turning to look at him. "Get that line back."

Gulping nervously, the water sprite slid into the chair in front of the desk to type a command.

"Is it back yet?" Holly asked.

"Um, glub, not -"

"You're fired. Sass - get Foaly in here now. I don't care what it takes."

The centaur anxiously tapped a hoof to the floor. "I think he's on vacation?"

"You're fired. Get him in here anyways."

Sass saluted, trotting for the door. "Will do, boss lady."

Caltrop was twisting nervously in his seat to stare at Holly. He considered clarifying whether he had actually been fired, saw the look on Holly's face, and continued to attempt a retrieval of the shuttle link instead.

"And Dodo - pull up the location stats on the shuttle. Now."

"On it," the dwarf replied immediately, and scurried over to the intern terminal.

Holly watched her interns, fists clenched and breathing hard. From behind her came a new voice.

"Hey, Holly! Who died and put you in charge?"

Holly turned slowly. Mulch saw her expression and took a cringing step back. "Wait, you have your someone-actually-did-die face on. Who was it? And where's Mud Boy?" The sequence of his questions caught up with him. "Oh. Oh no."

Holly was already walking briskly towards the door, grabbing his arm as she passed. "I'll explain on the way."

-x-

"Look, dude, I can't let you in. Unless you're here to play with the kids, and frankly, I'd welcome that because they're a handful." The artificial intelligence released a hiss of steam; the sound came out as a sigh.

"Look, _dude_ ," retorted Sass, "It's an emergency. An Uncle Ted emergency."

"Oh." The artificial intelligence paused for a moment, running the code word through the database. "Oh, I see. That's not good, is it?"

Sass stomped a hoof. "As I've been saying, no, it's not! Now lemme talk to Uncle Foaly!"

"Patching you through now. Have a _wonderful_ day."

-x-

Caltrop had never imagined that he'd come to enjoy his job. It was a way to stay out of prison and evade the talons of the dread Lucia, nothing more. And yet...there was something to be said for being able to call himself "Head Intern." Something to be said for being part of a team.

He hoped Holly hadn't meant it when she fired him, and so he trailed silently after her and Mulch, waiting for an opportunity to state his case. It didn't seem to be forthcoming - the elf had already gone about the business of bumping a patrol team to commandeer their vehicle for a rescue mission, while Mulch stood at her shoulder making menacing faces at anybody who dared protest.

Actually, he may have just been constipated. Caltrop moved upwind.

The sprite might even have gotten aboard the shuttle entirely unnoticed if not for Lucia. As the doors to the vehicle swung shut, the canary gave a piercing cry. "She's here!" exclaimed Caltrop.

Mulch whirled around. "Holly, one of your interns followed us."

The elf had already strapped herself into the pilot's seat, her teeth bared in a grimace. "Chlorella, how much do you know about chute speed limits?"

"I - don't?"

"Good." She turned back to Mulch. "He can stay."

Lucia made the mistake of choosing Mulch as her first target. A moment before the doors sealed completely, the bird swooped down at the dwarf's face. Mulch responded by opening his mouth and looking up.

"I like this intern. He brought a snack," he mumbled around a mouthful of canary.

"You can't _eat_ her!" cried Caltrop. "That's cruel!"

Reluctantly, Mulch spat the bird back out. Wrapped entirely in dwarf spit, she glared menacingly at her foes. The dwarf patted her on the head gently, swore as she nearly took a chunk out of his fingertip with her beak, and tucked her carefully inside a pocket to save for later.

There was no more time for banter, as the shuttle shot out of the docking port like a cork from a bottle. Despite himself, Caltrop gave a squeak of terror at the acceleration. Mulch laughed.

"You've never seen her fly before, have you? Oh, this is going to be fun."

Holly's glare immediately shut them both up, and the rest of the trip was spent in silent trepidation.

-x-

From the tiny camera lens of the artificial dragonfly, Foaly's face appeared incredibly large and oddly round. He glared up into the lens, brushing a hoof against the forest floor in irritation. Artificial sunlight filtered down through the leaves, just one of the perks that merited the three year waiting list. "Someone had better be dying."

Sass rubbed the back of her neck. "Well-"

"Oh no. What's going on?" Sass opened her mouth to speak and Foaly added hastily, "And not so loud. Caballine might hear."

"Well, you know how you rigged those RAFS shuttles so they wouldn't respond to humans?"

Foaly's eyes bulged. Given the rounded lens, this appeared even more impressive than it was. "Please don't tell me Artemis managed to break -"

"If it helps, I don't think he was the one that broke it. I think he was trying to stop them."

"Them," Foaly repeated. "Them? Multiples?"

Sass nodded, tugging at a lock of green hair as she studied her uncle's panicked face. The last time she had seen him so upset had been during an incident involving a picnic basket, a barbeque grill, and several gnomes from accounting.

On second thought, she was pretty sure his current expression was probably worse. "Look, Uncle Foaly - I think Aunty Caballine will understand you coming back for this one."

-x-

An hour later, Dodo was shoved out of her chair by a frantic-looking centaur who bore a striking resemblance to Sass. Minus the fluorescent hair, of course. "Pardon -?"

"I'm here to save Mud Boy's bacon. Again." Foaly shook his head for a moment. "It's kind of a habit. I used to be head of a chess club, we met every Wednesday, they had great sandwiches, but now I do this." The whole time he spoke, the centaur typed away at the terminal, pulling up and discarding interfaces. "Ah, there we go - found them!"

"I've got Holly and the others on a line here," said Dodo as she passed over a headset, deciding she could get a proper explanation later. Foaly hooked the headset over one ear, and - after a moment of rummaging around in Artemis's desk drawer - pulled another one online and set it jauntily on the other side of his head.

"Right. Let's see how big of a mess he made this time." Foaly cracked his knuckles, forcing a grin. "I'm sure whatever it is, we've seen worse."

He clicked the button. The phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

-x-

"They should have picked up by now," whined Caltrop anxiously.

Holly glared.

The line continued to ring.

-x-

Artemis's ears were ringing.

It was dark, but that might have been because his eyes were closed. He hurt everywhere, but that was actually an encouraging sign. Hurting meant he wasn't dead again - Holly would be pleased. And as nowhere in particular hurt more than anywhere else, that was another good sign. Still, he ran through the checklist before attempting to sit up.

_Dead? No. Legs, arms, ribs - check, check, check (I think). Do I know where I am? Metal surface, uneven - another no, then. Do I remember what happened? Yes - Jones crashed the shuttle. That explains the metal. If we landed upside down, then I am laying on the roof. Or what remains of it._

Not the most eloquent chain of thoughts, but he had long since pared down his mental checklist to the bare essentials. Having determined that he was alive, relatively unharmed, and in a familiar environment, he opened his eyes. It didn't help much, as the room really _was_ dark. As Artemis wiggled his fingers, something cool and cylindrical rolled across his palm. _Oh._ If that was what he thought it was - Artemis fumbled with the device and managed to find the switch. A thin, red laser beam shot through the roof, making a faint hissing sound as it carved through the metal.

 _Excellent_. Somehow, he had managed to keep hold of his laser pointer during the crash. Artemis was rather proud. He thumbed the dial, muting the focus of the light so it could serve as a flashlight. Suitably armed, he sat up and realized that the ringing wasn't only in his ears.

-x-

The line clicked and Holly wondered whether Foaly had given up. She opened her mouth to snap at him to try again when a familiar - though currently quite feeble - voice sounded on the other end. "I'm alive."

Holly let out a breath. "We weren't worried about you," she said quickly. "But what in Frond's name did you manage to _do_ to that shuttle?"

"You can see it?" Artemis asked. He attempted a smile, even though the link was audio-only.

There was a pause. "Well, we can see the mess it made. You were lucky. The shuttle hit a tunnel at the right angle and followed it down pretty far. Plenty of room to shed velocity. Your tracking equipment's all scrambled, which means the shuttle kept rolling as it slid. That probably saved your life - lots of bumps but no sudden stops. Rocks caved in behind you, but we've got Mulch here to handle that. He'll dig you out. How about the others - anyone harmed?"

There was a pause and the sound of shifting metal. "Someone's coming around," he answered. "I'll go check."

"We'll be here," Holly said, "And Artemis?" She tapped four times on the mic.

Two taps by the way of reply, and then the rattle of loose stones as he moved away from the comm.

-x-

Artemis was halfway through the wreck of the shuttle, keeping his movements slow and deliberate as the metal creaked and groaned around him. It didn't even look like a shuttle anymore - as it had rolled through the rocks and into the tunnel, long strips of the outer casing had been torn clean off while smaller pieces of stone had rained down inside.

He could hear the sounds of someone stirring ahead of him, and aimed the light ahead. The beam fell on Becquerel's face. The teenager uncurled slowly, grumbling in protest. His face was smeared on one side with dirt, his jacket was torn from the slide down the tunnel, and a spectacular bruise was beginning to blossom on his forehead. Despite this, he still had the vigour to flail reflexively back from the light.

"Gerroff!" the teen snarled, waving an arm over his eyes.

"Good, you survived," said Artemis, sounding a lot more chipper than he felt. "Demia?"

"I'm here!" the girl cried, and popped up behind Bec to dust off her skirt. In contrast to her companion, her eyes were bright and her teeth gleamed in the dark as she smiled. "Wow, what a tumble. Lucky I landed on Bec!"

"Lucky," Bec repeated grouchily, lowering his arm. By way of response, Artemis flicked the light once more to Becquerel's face. "Argh! What was that for?"

"Checking your pupillary reflex," replied Artemis coolly. "Good. You're not concussed. Stay where you are. We were buried by a rockfall, but I'm working on securing us a way out."

"Like you were working on making sure we crashed in the first place? Art, I heard you when we were falling - nobody sounds that calm in a crash unless it's exactly where they want to be." Bec pushed himself up on his elbows, grimacing. Artemis paused.

"I failed to see how sitting there and screaming would help the situation. Nothing more, nothing less."

"You sounded like you knew exactly what you were doing."

Artemis didn't see the point in arguing. Instead, by way of response, Artemis shot him once more with the light.

"Stop doing that!" yelled Bec, raising his voice for the first time since regaining consciousness. Somewhere above the shuttle and to the left, something gave a menacing growl.

A low growl, a bloodthirsty growl.

A familiar growl.

Artemis flicked the light off.

-x-

She heard the skittering of stones before Artemis's voice whispered, "Everyone's accounted for. Jones is likely concussed, and Carter is unharmed."

"Good to hear it," Holly responded, "But we've got a problem. I thought it was pushing luck even for you that your shuttle just happened to hit the one tunnel in the chute. So I had Foaly pull up the schematics, and it turns out -"

"Trolls," Artemis said softly. "They shut down the chute because of the trolls. There's probably a whole network of tunnels running all through this side of the rock. Crashing into one was like throwing a rock into an anthill."

"Yes," she said in surprise. "How did you - Oh no. You're whispering."

"Yes, Holly. I am whispering for a reason."

"No need to get snippy with the rescue party," she retorted. "How close is it?"

Artemis paused. "I think it may be "them.""

Mulch moved closer to the speaker. "Hey, Artemis! You'll have to talk louder, I can't hear you!" As if in agreement, Lucia wiggled in his pocket and let out a bloodthirsty screech.

"You brought the _bird_ with you?" Artemis hissed.

"Saving her for a snack," Mulch responded cheerfully.

Holly raised her hands in defeat.

-x-

Becquerel waited until Artemis had moved to the other end of the shuttle before rolling over towards Demia. "We have a problem," he told her grimly.

"I'll say - you're a mess," she responded. "Not very good at adventures, are you? That's fair enough - this is my first adventure, too. I hear the learning curve is steep but we're smart, we can do it."

"That's just it, though," Bec said. "Art is much too calm. No matter how steep the learning curve is, there's no way you can get used to something like this. Not unless you planned it."

Demia bit her lip. "But he said he would help."

"Doesn't mean he meant it. Man, Demi, you really need to stop being so trusting."

She folded her arms and stared at him. "You're still upset over the dwarf thing. I get it. But I don't think anyone would want to be inside a crashing shuttle."

"You heard him, though, when we were crashing. Talking to that girl, doing something with the panel - he was making sure it crashed properly. Do you think it's a coincidence that we started to fall the moment the other fairy - the one who seemed to be in charge - decided we weren't going to cooperate? _Think_ , Demia. However we get out of this situation, Art's not going to be part of it."

"I dunno." Demia gnawed on her lower lip for a moment. She shifted a little, sending rocks tumbling down the slope behind her. "He seemed scared of whatever's growling outside."

"Of course he wants us to think that! Look - we're right where he needs us to be. We need to get out of here, Demi. Please, just trust me."

The girl twisted to peer over the rubble to where Artemis still sat, talking quietly into the communication's console. Finally, she gave a small nod. "Okay. I'm with you, Bec."

-x-

Artemis had begun to wear a path through the rubble from the number of times he had picked his way between the comm device and the Changelings.

"I think Bec might actually be concussed after all," noted Demia, her brow furrowed in concern. "He tried to stand up, and -" She crinkled her nose. "Yuck."

Bec lifted his head from where he had hunched over in the corner, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "I hate you, Art."

Artemis shrugged, maintaining a safe distance from both Changelings. "My mistake. You blinked."

"Are you serious -"

"What did I tell you about being quiet?" Artemis snapped with a careful glance upwards. The growling had resumed, and he continued to speak in a whisper. "We've got a rescue party on the way, so we simply need to wait for them to arrive. Stay quiet - trolls are adapted to the dark, and so their sense of hearing is keen."

"Wait, if they're magic, shouldn't we try to get them to help us?" asked Demia, rubbing Bec's shoulder.

"You can't be serious. What part of your brain hears growling and assumes it's friendly?" asked Artemis, before shooting a pointed glare at Becquerel. "I take that back. My point is, trolls are perfectly capable of tearing through the walls of the shuttle to get to us, so just stay quiet, please."

"So if they hear us, they'll come inside and we'll have to move?" Demia straightened her spine, lifting her hand from Becquerel's shoulder. "I understand perfectly!"

Artemis went cold. He suddenly knew what she was about to do, but there was no way to stop her.

-x-

The shrill scream carried over the comm line as Holly swung the shuttle sharply to the side, nestling it in against the tract the crash had scorched in the rock. Her hand hovered over the controls for a moment, waiting for the docking clamps to engage and secure them against the side of the chute. She'd have to watch them manually; the chute walls were thin and crumbled easily under any kind of pressure. "Fowl, what happened?"

For a long moment, there was no human reply on the other end. The girl's scream petered out. Half a second later, the sound of tearing metal began again. For one gut-wrenching moment Holly wondered if the shuttle had slipped down a slope or began to roll once more; almost immediately, the predatory growl of a troll hit the comm, settling that bout of fear and raising a whole new crop of questions.

"Eek!" the female voice piped up in the distance, "I know why you wanted us to stay quiet now!"

-x-

The troll had managed to reach one hand through the hole it had torn in the shuttle's wall, and the rest of it would not take long to follow. "Get behind me," Artemis ordered, fiddling once more with his laser pointer. When neither of the Changelings moved, he snapped, "Unless you'd prefer to learn firsthand what those tusks can do."

It was Demia who gathered her wits enough to pull Bec into the corner behind Artemis. "Do you have a magic weapon?"

"Yes," he said shortly. The troll barged the rest of the way through the wall and turned towards its prey. Artemis flicked on the light.

The resulting roar was truly impressive.

"I think I like magic," Demia noted. Bec threw up again.

-x-

"Yes, I recognize your right to dress according to preference," Holly growled at Mulch, "But the heat in the chute will fry you alive if you aren't wearing the protective suit on the way to the blockage. You can take it off as soon as you're in the tunnel and ready to start digging."

Mulch was about to put up another token protest even as he reached for the heat resistant suit in the side locker when Artemis's voice sounded again through the comm.

"I bought us some time."

Holly leaned forward. "How did you manage-?"

"My laser pointer." The Mud Boy sounded proud. "I installed a setting for just this sort of situation. Wavelength of the beam's calibrated to 500 nanometres - pure cyan. Hardest wavelength for rod cells to process, overloaded the nocturnal visual system completely. Should put the troll out of commission for roughly five minutes while the retina adjusts to the dark again." He frowned. "Ten, actually, but I'm cutting my estimate in half to be safe."

"Safe. Right. And after five minutes?"

"I shoot it again."

Caltrop looked up in interest. "You installed a troll setting? That's what you meant by having a t-troll contingency plan! You put a troll light in that thing because you c-carry it around."

"The other way around. I carry it because I installed a troll setting, obviously."

"Of course you did," said Holly through clenched teeth. "Can you get out of there now?"

"Yes, but I'm taking the communication module with me."

"It's attached to the dock, you can't -"

A hissing sound crackled over the line as the laser pointer sliced cleanly through the module attachment. Despite the grim situation inside the downed shuttle, Artemis nearly grinned as he caught the newly-freed comm before it could clatter to the floor. "Done. I'll talk to you when I've caught up with the others."

-x-

Bec jerked to a stop, pulling on Demia's hand so she wouldn't leave him behind. "Hang on," he groaned, and bent over. "I think I read somewhere that running is bad for a concussion."

Demia rolled her eyes, but she waited for him to catch his breath. "We'd better keep moving," she reminded him. "If the troll can see in the dark then he'll have the advantage. We'd better find someplace to hide."

With another moan, Bec straightened up and passed her his phone. It had been turned to the highest brightness setting in order to act as a light to guide their path, although both Changelings knew the battery could not last forever. "Take the lead," he said. "Art's probably right behind us."

Demia was biting her lip again. "I think you were right - he knew exactly what to do with the troll."

"Of course I was right. Now keep moving. I'll keep an eye on our rear."

-x-

It had taken considerable effort even for Foaly to be able to hack into the backup communication system of the shuttle in order to set up another line to Artemis. So when the signal began moving, the centaur nearly had a fit.

"Does he _realize_ it could go out of range at any time?" he wailed, typing furiously.

Dodo patted him on the shoulder and handed him another cup of fresh-made coffee. "I'm sure you'll figure it out. I hear that you're the best."

"I am the best," agreed Foaly, feeling slightly better. "Even Fowl admits it. I knew I hired you for a reason, Feldspar."

Dodo almost argued that she'd heard otherwise from Artemis himself, but decided to let it rest. This was probably the wrong time to pick a fight.

-x-

The path that the Changelings had stumbled upon led up a natural slope in the rock. It narrowed as they followed it, the sides of the path falling away sharply from the light of Bec's cell phone. Occasionally, Demia would tip it upward, attempting to make out the cavern ahead of them, but the light was not strong enough to illuminate much of anything.

They'd been following the path for several minutes before something growled directly ahead. The ground vibrated twice and Demia stopped, tucking the light into her pocket so it shone against her leg.

"It's on the bridge," whispered Bec, a little bit needlessly.

"We have to pass it," Demia told him resolutely. "But it's okay, I know how this works. Littlest one first."

" _What? Are you insane?"_

"No! I just studied Norwegian folklore. You know, my dad went there on sabbatical," she explained. "Three Billy Goats Gruff. If we count Artemis, there are three of us, so it works perfectly. The troll lets the first two goats pass because they promise another, larger goat is right behind them. And then the largest goat knows there's a troll there, so he just knocks it off the bridge! Artemis has the magic light, so he'll be fine."

Bec was less certain. "Can we even negotiate with it?"

She nodded quickly. "Most of the stories say trolls are really smart, even if they're mean. You just have to know how to talk to them! It'll be okay, it's an adventure."

"I don't think that's how adventures work, Demi."

"I know it's scary but in fairy tales and adventures you have to be brave. I'm smaller, so I'll go first." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, before skipping off into the dark.

-x-

In the middle of the bridge, the troll lifted its head.

-x-

Artemis heard a scream. It cut off abruptly.

He started to run.

-x-

"Was that - was that Artemis?" asked Caltrop, bubbles rising rapidly in his gill tank.

"No." Holly looked to Mulch, who had finally managed to squeeze himself into the heat-resistant suit. "Fowl's a lot more squeaky when he panics."

"I can still hear you!" came Artemis's voice over the comm. He was out of breath, having just reached the slope that led to the bridge.

"Oh, good, decided to join us again?" Holly was snippy - he'd been ignoring her requests for a status report for the last five minutes and she'd had to reattach the shuttle to the chute wall twice already, as the clamps kept slipping loose.

"I was running," he said, spotting a light on the bridge up ahead. It was clear and white and narrow, the sort of light produced by the screen of an electronic device. The light shone dimly up towards the ceiling of the cavern, fading before it could reach any kind of roof. Something bulky moved in the shadows, beyond the edge of illumination. Artemis paused, watching the light source intently for a moment. It was still.

"You? Running?"

"Yes. And therefore not talking." Artemis kept his eyes fixed upon the bridge ahead, switching his laser pointer back to produce a wide beam of red light. _700nm. Should be beyond the visible range of the trolls, though if Becquerel and Demia are still there, they'll see it. If not -_

He couldn't let himself finish that thought.

"Are Carter and Jones with you?" Holly asked, returning her attention once more to the docking clamps. The new segment of wall that the rescue shuttle had latched onto kept threatening to crumble again, and the last thing they needed was another crash.

Artemis did not reply, shining his light down along the ridge that fell away from the path. If anyone had escaped, it would have been down that way. At first, it seemed as though there would be no sign - then something caught the light and reflected it back to him.

A single rainboot laying alone on its side. It told Artemis all he needed to know.

He swallowed hard and moved the light past the boot, tracking it slowly up to the surface of the bridge. A moment later, hand shaking, he returned the beam to the boot. A deep breath to steady his grip and then - just as slowly - Artemis began to examine the lower half of the slope. Just beyond the reach of the light was a small outcropping of boulders and it almost looked as though something human-sized was moving on the other side of them - he thought he saw the swish of Becquerel's ponytail - but it was too far away to know for sure. He switched off the laser pointer to conserve battery. If the Changeling was there, he was not looking up; if he moved, Artemis would hear it.

He finally answered Holly's question, his voice flat. "I might have Jones."

"And Carter?"

Artemis shook his head but didn't answer. "Tell Mulch to bring the bird."

"The what?"

"The _bird,"_ he snapped as loudly as he dared. His fingers curled around the comm. "I think I can get him out of here, but I need the bird."

"Lucia's a liability," Holly replied as calmly as she could, adjusting the docking clamps one last time to be sure they would remain anchored to the side of the chute as Mulch finally prepared to leave the vehicle. "I won't send her in there. Does Mulch have a clear path to get you out?"

"Holly," whispered Artemis, "Please just trust me. I can get Becquerel Jones out of here alive, but I need the bird to do it."

On the other side of the line the elf tilted her head back and counted backwards from four in her head, exhaling slowly. By the time she reached zero, Holly had decided. "Fine." She waved a hand at Mulch, who picked Lucia back up from where he had set her aside for safekeeping. With her wings glued to her sides by dwarf spit, the bird could do nothing more menacing than chirp in a threatening way. Grumbling to himself about the waste of a perfectly good snack as he tucked Lucia inside his heat-resistant suit for protection, Mulch promptly ejected himself from the shuttle and began to dig.

And then there was nothing left for Holly to do but wait.

-x-

It was the longest fifteen minutes Artemis had experienced in years.

He remained crouched in the dark at the side of the path, the comm held tightly in his hand. Every sixty seconds, four beats sounded over the line; Artemis would respond with two taps of his finger against the comm's mic. To anything else in the tunnel the sound would be inaudible, but it echoed loud and clear through the shuttle's speakers.

Artemis had learned through plenty of observation that Mulch was a fast tunneller, but he recognized that it would take time to create a safe path through the debris field. He tried to occupy his time by calculating just how long the dwarf would take but gave up as there was no way to accurately recall how far the shuttle had rolled.

So when the ground trembled to his right, Artemis jumped and almost hit it with his comm.

"Oh look," said Mulch once he'd swallowed a last mouthful of dirt. He pulled himself out of the hole. "Here I am, saving you from trolls again. And here you are, not appreciating it." After a moment of rummaging around in his reluctantly-worn protective suit, the dwarf produced Lucia with a flourish. "Just like old times."

The bird shook a small cascade of loose earth from her plumage, and gave a disgruntled squawk.

-x-

"I still don't understand why I can't just ride the troll to freedom," repeated Mulch in token protest.

"We're only safe now because we've avoided drawing their attention," Artemis whispered. "I've heard more than one of them moving over there, but can't get an accurate count from here - we need crowd control." He reached for his tie and had to look down to find it, as it had twisted to hang over his shoulder at some point amidst the crash or subsequent scrambling. He pulled it forward again, loosening the knot before pulling the tie from around his neck.

"So you're grooming?" Mulch asked skeptically.

Artemis subjected him to the Patented Fowl Glare, which didn't translate well in the dim light of Mulch's headlamp. "Where's the bird?"

"I am told her name is Lucia," Mulch said delicately, but he passed the canary over to Artemis. Still encased in glowing dwarf spit, she was helpless. She squawked once more and Mulch looked up worriedly. "The trolls have probably noticed us now. Should I glue her mouth shut?"

"That wouldn't fit with the plan," Artemis said softly, concentrating on using his tie to secure his laser pointer to Lucia's claws.

Mulch looked over the resulting knot critically and spat a wad of spit into his hand before rubbing it all over the bird's claws. Lucia croaked unhappily.

Across the bridge, something stirred.

"That will have to do," Artemis decided, and flicked the dial to the troll setting. "She's ready."

Mulch began carefully freeing the hardened spit from her wings, attempting to brush down the feathers. "You know, there's a water sprite back in the shuttle that will be very sad to see Lucia go."

"Knowing her, she'll be just fine," responded Artemis.

Mulch straightened and thrust his arms into the air. "If you say so. Be free!" he told the canary, opening his hands to release her. "Fly, noble bird!"

-x-

The noble bird flew all of two feet before she came to terms with her surroundings, appraised the situation, and decided who was to blame.

Following a tradition nearly a decade long, the canary immediately concluded that Artemis was the one responsible for everything that was currently wrong with the situation. She would have her revenge. Stretching her wings - ah, freedom! - and wheeling sharply in the air, she released a magnificent battle cry, testing her voice in the confined space. It echoed beautifully, the sound bouncing off the rock walls to magnify and emanate from every surface at once.

For one spectacular moment, her momentum balanced perfectly against gravity. Lucia was weightless.

The next instant, she tucked her talons in as far as they would go with the extra weight she was carrying, and _dove_.

-x-

"Mud Boy - !" Mulch shifted backwards away from Artemis the moment the beam of cyan light dipped in the air as the bird wheeled above them.

"Get to Jones!" Though he hadn't relished the prospect of more running, Artemis had assumed that Lucia would not be one to let grudges go quite so easily. There was only one way to lure the bird towards her intended targets, and so Artemis took one step out onto the bridge, and then another.

Lucia cried out as she went down for the kill. Rather than tearing into the back of his head with her talons, the bird only succeeded in hitting Artemis from behind with the tip of the laser pointer. The genius stumbled forwards, instinctively closing his eyes to prevent from being blinded by the beam as it darted off to the side of the path, the bird circling around for another approach -

_Nearly there._

He was two feet away from Demia's dropped cell phone when Lucia noticed the bigger target waiting at the end of the bridge. She screeched, shooting out over Artemis's head with the troll light still pointed directly before her.

At the end of the bridge, the troll looked up and gave a snarl.

_Perfect._

Artemis didn't wait for further confirmation; he already knew from Bec's position behind the rocks that traversing the slope at the side of the bridge was survivable, and so he paused for only a moment at the edge before momentum caught up with him and he slid. It wasn't graceful; his arms pinwheeled in a frantic attempt to keep his balance before his feet slipped out from beneath him entirely. A small rockslide accompanied him down the slope, and he barely managed to avoid tumbling into Mulch, who had by now managed to cross the lower path.

"The bird won't have a chance," the dwarf said pointedly, glancing upwards. Artemis shook his head as the roar of a blinded troll shook the walls of the cave.

"Lucia always goes for the eyes," he panted. "The light - she'll keep them busy!"

-x-

And then Becquerel Jones finally pushed himself up out of his hiding space, eyes wide and face pale in the bleary light cast by Mulch's headlamp. At some point over the last few minutes his hair had come tumbling out of his ponytail - it now hung limply around his face, and he pushed it back from his forehead with a trembling hand. For a moment the two genii studied each other warily.

"Demi -" Bec began, his voice hoarse.

"We need to go," Artemis said firmly. "I'm sorry."

Bec's eyes fell on Mulch. "You!"

"Yes, me," the dwarf said cheerfully. "Can we go now?"

"No, Demi - Demi said she'd be back," said Becquerel, his gaze snapping back to Artemis. "She knew what she was doing. Nobody knows folklore better than her."

"And no one knows trolls better than me," Artemis said rapidly. "Troll tusks contain an anesthetic that, within minutes of contact with the bloodstream, will stop the human heart. She's long gone, Becquerel. We need to go."

Becquerel looked down at his hands for just a moment, one thumb tracing over the other. When he returned to watching Artemis, his eyes were hard and his voice hollow. "We're not on a first-name basis, Fowl. We are not friends."

"I'm saving your life anyways. We need to go."

-x-

Mulch brought them out of the tunnel neatly, following the vibrations the loosely-attached docking clamps sent echoing through the rock face to emerge exactly over the port in the shuttle's side. This ensured the humans were not exposed to the heat of the chute for any span of time; unfortunately, the angle of the tunnel left them with a short drop to the floor of the shuttle.

Artemis had brought up the rear on the way back, predicting that Becquerel would attempt to return for Demia at least once. He was correct, and it was only through a well-timed threat from Mulch that the return to the rescue vehicle proceeded according to plan.

"If you two mud boys don't stop fighting back there, I _will_ take action!" the dwarf had hissed. Becquerel had gulped and immediately turned back around, crawling silently for the rest of the journey with his mouth firmly closed.

When they reached the shuttle Mulch jumped the last two feet to the floor of the vehicle, shaking himself briskly to clear crumbs of dirt from his beard. Holly glanced anxiously over her shoulder, her hands still tensed around the docking controls as Becquerel flopped limply to the ground. For once Artemis had a little more grace, managing to not land on the other Changeling as he pushed himself free of the earth.

Holly didn't like to ask, but she had never been given verbal confirmation of Carter's status. "Is that everybody?" she said softly.

"No!" said Bec, pushing himself up from the floor, his eyes watering from the sudden light. His forehead wound from the crash had blossomed into a livid purple bruise, and his entire body was shaking.

"Yes," said Artemis without looking at Becquerel. As he limped towards the front of the shuttle, Artemis made a futile attempt to dust off the jacket of his suit. After such a venture, the damage to the garment would of course be irreparable; attempting to neaten his appearance was habit, all the same.

Holly did not need to release the clamps, as they chose that moment to part way entirely with the rockface. The vehicle shuddered a little as she pulled back lightly on the controls to regain stability; both Artemis and Becquerel froze at the sound of loosened rock cascading against the outer shell of the vehicle.

The disturbance didn't last long. Once they were flying, safe in Holly's capable hands, Artemis finally exhaled.

-x-

The entire affair had been resolved in less time than it took for the LEP to assemble a formal rescue mission. Now, there was nothing to do but return to Haven.

Having reassured Holly that he was not injured by the ordeal, Artemis had borrowed her own personal communicator and excused himself to the back of the shuttle to make what he referred to only as "an important phone call." The elf, catching the look on his face, didn't ask any questions beyond that - she simply handed over the device and returned her attention to the flight. She knew that he would be perfectly willing to explain when he was ready, and not a moment sooner.

On his way to the back of the shuttle, where he would be able to talk privately, Artemis had to pass Becquerel Jones. The genius was sitting against the wall of the vehicle with his hand in his hands, hair fallen in front of his face. He rocked back and forth a little bit with the movement of the shuttle, and dug the nails of his right hand so firmly against his left palm that his fingers were the bloodless colour of bone.

"Jones?" asked Artemis softly. "What can I -"

Before Artemis could finish the question, the teenager had sprung to his feet. Bec swung wildly; both were surprised when his fist connected with Artemis's cheek.

Had this happened under any other circumstances, onlookers would have cheered. As it was, Caltrop simply slipped in between the two Mud Boys before the situation could escalate even further. For the first time in this escapade, he had seen an opportunity to be useful.

"Easy there, easy," he told Bec, raising both hands as he looked up into the teenager's eyes. _"Calm down, everything's fine. It's all right. Why don't you sit back down?"_

Bec's brow creased, and it looked as though he was going to argue before the magic of the _mesmer_ caught him. "I... think I'll sit down now," he decided, shooting one last glare at Artemis, who had raised his hand gingerly to the side of his face.

Holly didn't even turn around. "Fowl, do I need to come heal you again?"

Artemis prodded at the already forming bruise and winced. "No, I almost think I deserved that."

As Artemis retreated to make his phone call, Holly knew better than to fight him. Attacks of conscience were rare enough for her friend; she may as well allow this one to run its course.

-x-

Upon arriving at the Haven shuttleport, the craft was swarmed with LEP officers, emergency responders, an entire retrieval team, and a warlock before Holly had a chance to even shut off the engine. "You pulled out all the stops on this one," she noted as Commander Kelp himself stepped through the door, surveying the occupants skeptically.

"Fowl, what did I say about sitting and waiting for a team to pick you up?"

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "I tried that approach."

The commander looked around the room once more - from Holly, who had still not let go of the shuttle's controls, to where Becquerel remained slumped against the wall in a _mesmer_ -induced daze, to where Caltrop stood guard two feet away, to Mulch (who was still absorbed in picking stray rocks from his beard), and finally back to Artemis, who hadn't moved.

"D'Arvit!" the commander swore, before turning on his heel and exiting the craft. Everybody present knew that a serious conversation needed to be had with Kelp, but that was fine. Now was not the time.

The retrieval unit was the second LEP presence to board the shuttle. They were tasked with escorting Jones to a secure facility, where he would be given appropriate medical attention and held until the matter had been investigated. Of course a safe mind wipe had already been arranged. Holly signed the custody transfer form; Artemis simply watched them tug the _mesmerized_ human to his feet and lead him out into the crowd.

A moment later, they rounded a corner and were gone from sight.

-x-

It took the shuttle's other occupants nearly two hours to return to Police Plaza, accosted every several steps by specialists who insisted they had something of benefit to add to the situation. Finally, Holly began to outright snarl at any soul to venture within two feet of their little party. This effectively thinned the crowd, but did not dissipate it entirely.

In one memorable instance, an especially brave sprite in a paramedic's uniform jumped up from behind, flapped his wings twice to reach Artemis's height, and draped a shock blanket over the Mud Boy's shoulders. Artemis distastefully pulled it off with one hand.

Looking down at the blanket, his brow furrowed in dismay. "I probably could have used one of these seven years ago. Perhaps eight. I should file a complaint."

Holly shrugged, reaching to pluck it away. "We can write up a form later. Should probably check on the interns now - even if you don't need this, at least one of them will."

His hand twisted against hers for just a moment, fingertips brushing together.

Mulch loudly wondered if he'd managed to let out all the air back in the tunnel, or if there were still a few stubborn bubbles that would need to be expelled. The last of the "specialists" dropped back several paces, muttering in alarm. Holly cast a skeptical glance up at Artemis, who simply nodded and closed his fingers around hers.

"He's fine," the human mouthed. Holly sighed in relief and turned her gaze ahead once more, not letting go of his hand.

-x-

"You're alive!" cheered Foaly as the team filed into the boiler room. "Hey Fowl, may the fours be -"

Artemis didn't even wait for him to finish the greeting. "Goodbye, Foaly."

"Well, there's gratitude. You know I only left my vacation because I thought you were dead again."

"And it was much appreciated," Artemis responded. Hand still entangled in Holly's, he pulled her across the room to his computer, using his other hand to tap at the screen rapidly. "There, I bought you a new one. Same place, next weekend. Happy?"

Foaly frowned. "How did you know where - no, nevermind. I'm going now. This is me leaving." And with a final, indignant swish of his tail, he trotted from the room.

"Well, that was showy," commented Holly.

Artemis turned away from the computer. "I arranged it on the shuttle," he admitted. "All that was left to do was forward the confirmation email to him."

"So that's what you needed my phone for?"

"Not quite."

She waited, but Artemis still wasn't ready to explain.

-x-

Ten minutes later, Caltrop had initiated the automatic form sequence. LEPfoul's three interns had all officially been un-fired in light of their job performance under crisis. Without the boilers thrumming in the background, their office space was eerily quiet.

Holly had given the shock blanket to Dodo, who had snuggled into it and perched on the edge of the desk that housed the intern terminal. Two feet away, Sass had turned the accompanying chair upside-down and managed to balance upon it in a four-legged acrobatic feat. Mulch had not left yet, either, having flopped in the middle of the floor and neglected to stand back up. Caltrop had migrated towards the place where the boilers used to be, leaning against the wall - it was slightly warmer than the rest of the room, and his gill tanks bubbled happily. In the corner of the room, Artemis stood behind his desk chair, watching as the first of many forms began to fly through the program he had built. Occasionally he prompted Holly to tap the occasional key in order to speed the processing of difficult data. The elf had perched on the armrest of the human's chair. With one hand she adjusted the data input, while her other arm dangled over the side of the chair. She was reaching backwards just a little to meet him halfway, her fingers still clasped against his.

There was a lot of difficult data after this mission, and relatively little of it fit within the checkboxes and form lines of official LEP reports.

Finally, Caltrop spoke.

"So - um - Demia Carter's gone?"

"Yes."

"And our systems won't work because of the boilers, but we can't keep the boilers like this forever?"

"Yes."

"And Sass isn't fired any more?"

"No."

"And Dodo's not fired any more?"

"...No, she's not."

"And I'm not fired any more either?"

"For the last time, Chlorella, no!"

"Okay. But we're - like, us, as a team - we're okay, right? Like, we're gonna keep doing this kind of thing? I mean, somebody _died_ this time and, well, I don't know about you guys but that's a lot more than I usually deal with because I may be an anarchist and a hacker but I -"

" _Caltrop,_ " hissed Sass in a rare instance of tact.

"I thought you were kidding about the trolls," finished the water sprite, somewhat lamely.

The room fell silent again. Finally, Mulch stretched and sat up from his position on the floor, cracking his back a little as he did so.

"I hate to ask at a time like this, but Shrimp's got a point. What _are_ we going to do now?"

Artemis's computer beeped once with an incoming message, but he did not need to look at it to know what information it contained. The human took one deep breath, and tried to smile for the sake of his staff. _This is going to be a tricky one._

"Don't worry. I've got a plan."

-x-

_(End of Season One)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so sorry. So. Very. Sorry. We know how much you all loved Lucia.
> 
> On a more serious note, you didn't actually think we'd wait another month before posting the finale to the season (and conclusion to the cliffhanger), did you? We are planning to take a bit of a break before Season Two to tie up a couple of other projects we've got on the go. With any luck, those will pop up on this account fairly soon.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for staying with us - the response to this fic so far has absolutely blown us away! See you in Season Two!
> 
> -Winged and Freud


	9. The Lucia Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EPISODE 2.01: In the aftermath of a tragedy, LEPfoul takes drastic measures and Kelp's open-door policy comes back to haunt him. Again.

It had been a long day, and Holly Short was itching for something to shoot. Perhaps this was why, when she rounded the corner in the hallway outside of Commander Kelp's office and nearly ran headlong into Artemis, her hand automatically drifted towards the Neutrino at her belt even as her feet skipped backwards to avoid a collision. The human raised one eyebrow; she lifted her hand, palm open. "It's a comfort thing. What are you doing up here?" A moment later, it clicked. "D'arvit, you already spoke with Kelp?"

"Breathe, Holly. It's all been settled, just like we discussed. Walk with me?" Artemis jerked his head to the side, gesturing to the hallway behind her as he stepped to the side and continued on his way.

"No, see, we discussed talking to Trouble together." Despite her reservations, the elf turned on her heel to keep pace with him. For every two steps of Artemis's, she had to take three; all the same, the human was the one who had to quicken pace to keep up.

Artemis shook his head. "I excluded you only because you and the Commander are close friends. As necessary as the Box is, he's probably not going to like what it does. This way, you can claim I devised it alone. It really doesn't matter if he's angry with me, since we were hardly going to be friends in the first place."

"What are you up to?" Pausing now to wait for the elevator to arrive, Holly pivoted to face him, alarm in her face. "You don't go out of your way to make my life easier. Ever. What aren't you telling me?"

"Don't look at me like that - you know the Lucia Code won't hurt anybody. Do the interns have the rest of the office under control?"

Holly nodded. "When I left, they were packing the last of the equipment. We're really getting away with this, then?"

Artemis stepped over the threshold into the lift, finally exhaling. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Captain Short."

Holly rolled her eyes as she followed him, jamming a thumb into the button for building's ground floor. "Listen, do you hear that? It's the story of my life."

-x-

Caltrop Chlorella couldn't stop looking over his shoulder.

For years, the canary named Lucia had terrorized the water sprite. He'd become accustomed to the stabs of terror that accompanied her battle cries, become expert at predicting her erratic movements, and developed excellent duck and cover response times at the faintest glimpse of yellow pinwheeling overhead. And now, just like that, she was gone.

He didn't trust the silence in the slightest.

It probably didn't help that one of his fellow interns, a young centaur with lime-coloured hair and a lifelong determination to prove that her nickname of "Sass" was an apt one, had recently discovered a knack for Lucia mimicry.

From two feet behind him, Sass screeched. Caltrop automatically hit the deck, lacing his hands behind the back of his head to protect his gill tubes. The centaur glanced at the computer terminal on the desk, reading the clock with a satisfied flick of her tail. "Zero point four seconds. New record, Shrimp!"

Dodo Feldspar, the newest addition to the team, crinkled her nose as her head popped up from behind the desk. There was a red shock blanket tied around her neck like a cape, and she straightened the knot smartly as she spoke. "That was a great bird impression, but I'm turning the computer off now." With that established, the dwarf vanished once more behind the desk to resume rummaging through wires, blanket billowing behind her. The room around them was already mostly bare; the intern terminal was the last piece of office equipment that needed to be transported to their new location. They were supposed to have an extra pair of hands to help with the move, but Mulch Diggums had made a show of having something important to attend the moment he was asked to pick up a roll of packing tape. As a result, the move was running a little behind schedule.

"She's no fun.," whined the centaur, nodding her head towards Dodo, "I think I liked this job better before she got transferred in." Caltrop snorted, causing a flare of bubbles to pulse through the tanks that encircled his gills.

"You - glub - never showed up before!"

Sass grinned. "Exactly. I bet Dodo's a real stickler for punctuality."

"I can still hear you!" grumbled the dwarf, wrestling with the nest of wires behind the computer. One last pull, and the screen on the desk went dark.

"So, that'd be a yes, then?"

-x-

 _Nobody's talking to me because they have no idea what to do with me,_ Becquerel Jones thought as he stared blankly at the wall ahead. _Demia's parents will never know what happened to her, and I have no idea what's going to happen to me._

He had woken up alone in a sparsely furnished holding room, a pair of cuffs binding his wrists together. Becquerel privately considered that to be overkill. After all, he had seen enough police procedurals on television to identify the room around him. If he were in the middle of a police station, Bec knew better than to run blind. His memories of the trip back through the underground city were vague, flashbulbs and still images as opposed to a coherent flow. The inscrutable look on Fowl's face as the squad had led him from the shuttle - the push and pull of a crowd of people who looked nothing like humans - voices speaking in a language he did not understand. His head wound had been healed by a medic with sympathy in her eyes and a uniform the colour of the sky ( _so that's what magic looks like_ , he had thought as a cascade of blue sparks clouded his vision, spun haywire chaotic like a sandstorm through his mind), but Bec's knuckles were still scraped raw from where he had punched Fowl. Nobody had offered to heal those injuries, and he had not asked; as he interlaced his fingers against the surface of the table, Bec cringed. It hurt.

_I know it's scary, but -_

The urge to throw up had passed, though, so at least he could proceed under the assumption that he was no longer concussed. Out of habit, the teenager reached for the pocket where he kept his cell phone at all times. For just a moment, he'd forgotten - Demia had steadier hands, she'd been the one to hold the light in the caves. She'd claimed to know what she was doing, and so he'd allowed her to navigate. He could still hear the squeak of her rubber shoes against the dry earth, the quiet pulse of her breathing, the growls -

\- _in adventures and fairy tales, you have to be brave -_

Part of him knew that he should be taking advantage of this quiet moment to plan. Planning, though, had never been a strong suit of his. He tinkered, he engineered, he worked with his hands. He had always been awful at following through. Besides, it didn't seem to matter much. Sooner or later, the LEP would make a decision. Would he be charged as a criminal? Or would they wipe all memory of Demia from his mind, the way they had erased him from hers? Bec leaned his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes.

When she had forgotten him, he'd been able to work his way backwards. It had been difficult work, laying a scaffolding upon the foundation of the past to rebuild a relationship with his best friend. Still, though, it had been possible. If he forgot her now, though, she would be gone forever. If he forgot her now -

_\- I'm smaller, so I'll go first._

If he forgot her now, she really would die.

Still, the tears did not come.

-x-

Honkard D. Tweedir was beginning to worry: usually Fowl was quite prompt about returning his messages, yet - despite having been sent, just that afternoon, the transcript of a delightful old text - it had been several hours since the human had checked in. So it was that, when the Haven Library Archives began the arduous process of locking up for the night, Tweedir excused himself and decided to check in at Police Plaza. He had a bad feeling about this. If anybody else had been ignoring his messages, he might not have been quite so concerned; the gnome understood completely that certain individuals were simply too busy to check their inbox on a regular basis and, if they found the time to read his messages, might not find themselves obligated to respond. It could not be denied, however, that his human contact had a particular knack for finding trouble.

As a result, when Tweedir entered Police Plaza and discovered it in a state that he would later refer to as "an exceptional tizzy," he was only moderately surprised to discover - after several moments of asking around - who was at the center of the disaster. He'd not yet experienced it firsthand, of course, but all the literature did state that Artemis Fowl II tended to have that effect on situations.

Of course, that was as far as his investigation went. It turned out that the secretary at the front desk was "exceptionally obtuse" (as he would later refer to her) and seemed almost chronically determined to prevent him from making any legitimate progress in tracking down the human.

"Which one?" she'd asked as she drummed her fingernails against the worn surface of the desk. "Because let me tell you, this whole situation is an absolute nightmare!"

Tweedir coughed delicately. "Pardon me, but am I to understand that there is another human belowground besides Artemis Fowl the Second?"

The sprite pursed her lips in a disapproving manner. "Yes, well. Unfortunately -"

"Hey, Betty!" called a loud voice from the door just behind the secretary's desk. When Tweedir raised his eyes, he was astonished to see a human girl hunched over in the doorway.

The secretary sighed heavily and spun around on her chair. "Botti," she corrected.

The human flushed. "Sorry," she said, apologizing in English.

Tweedir stepped around the front desk, raising a hand in welcome. "Pardon me, miss," he said, matching her language.

His plan was to entreat the human girl to speak with him on the events that had led her to Haven City. Yet, before he could say another word, she had reached out and pumped his hand quite vigorously. Tweedir was taken aback, having expected the girl to lay her palm atop his so he might bow and express how enchanted he was to meet her. That was, after all, the way such meetings were described in all the literature on humans he had ever studied.

"Oh, thank goodness, somebody who's actually willing to talk to me. You know, I think most of the people around here are half-hoping that if they ignore me, I'll go away." The girl shook her head sadly, drawing her hand back to her side. "I'm Juliet."

Tweedir straightened, puffing out his chest a little in pride. "And I would be Professor Honkard D. Tweedir, K.H., W.M.M."

Juliet tilted her head. "I see. Are you busy right now?"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, fantastic. See, I came down here with a retrieval team. Ran into them at the shuttleport and Foaly convinced them to take me belowground with them, but they scattered the moment we arrived." Juliet pursed her lips. "I need to track down where LEPfoul went - actually, I know where they went. Unfortunately, I'm not allowed to leave the building without an escort. Something about not wanting another human wandering around the city. So, are you up for a walk?"

"You know where LEPfoul is? They've left the premises completely, I'm afraid."

Juliet shrugged. "I've had a tracker stuck to Artemis's shoe since we left the manor this morning. The centaur's bugs didn't seem to kill it, so yeah, I do."

"Excellent! Outstanding! Well done!" Tweedir extended his arm, beaming. "I do believe, Miss Juliet, that you have found yourself an escort!"

The girl took a small step backwards, not accepting the proffered limb as she turned towards the doorway. "Lucky me."

-x-

Skeptical as Holly had initially been when Artemis proposed that LEPfoul move their operations out of Police Plaza, she couldn't help but slug the Mud Boy on the arm in approval when she saw the new accommodations he'd managed to arrange for their department. For once, all of LEPfoul was in unanimous agreement about something: their new office was definitely better than a boiler room.

"You've had nearly five months to move out of my apartment and haven't been able to find a place, but it only took you two phone calls to put this together?" asked the elf, raising both eyebrows. Artemis, rubbing at his sleeve to try to restore blood flow to his lower arm, simply shrugged. It had taken him years to figure out, but somewhere along the line the human had learned that some questions were just not meant to be answered.

They were not far from Police Plaza, yet somehow the interns still managed to get lost on their way over. When they finally arrived (with the last boxes of office supplies in tow), Caltrop wasted no time in unboxing a thick-tipped felt marker and using it to scrawl the words "The Foul Team" over the front doorway.

The longest wall of the office looked down upon a busy street. One-way glass allowed the office's occupants to peer out at the bustling metropolis below and enjoy the lighting that illuminated the city streets while remaining shielded from invasive eyes. The opposite wall of the building was pressed directly against one of the many rock faces that ran through the city, providing structural integrity as well as a source of warmth that would prove quite useful in keeping heating costs down.

As for the office itself, a large and mostly rectangular open floor gave them plenty of room to set up desks and computers. The old boiler room had only provided them with space for a single intern terminal; in their new setting, Dodo and Sass immediately fell to bickering over who would be allowed to set up their workstation closest to the door. The dwarf thought it would be nice to set up a small aquarium or some kind of plant display upon her desk to welcome visitors, while the centaur figured that being closer to the entrance would make it easier to see new interns coming from a distance (allowing her to arrange to be elsewhere by the time they actually arrived).

Their argument was interrupted as Holly, rummaging through the boxes the interns had carried with them, made a horrifying discovery. "We stole the Plaza's coffee pot?"

Caltrop raised one hand. "W-won't we need it more than they will?" he suggested feebly, whisking the machine away to begin the process of setting it up.

This was the scene Juliet and Tweedir encountered by the time they finally made their way to the LEPfoul offices:

In the corner farthest from the door and window, Artemis sat at a computer terminal, guiding various systems as they crept their way towards functionality. Holly sat on the edge of his desk, her head bowed in to allow them to converse in quiet whispers. Caltrop had set up shop along the opposite wall, proudly watching his pilfered machine grind sim coffee beans to the perfect consistency. Occasionally he paused to check the coarseness of the grind against a chart he'd pulled up on a tablet, making minute adjustments to the machine. Dodo had won the fight to set up closest to the door, though Sass had arranged her desk opposite the dwarf's. As though in defiance against Dodo's meticulously neat workstation, Sass had already managed to make her desk appear as though a hurricane had bowled it over.

In short, LEPfoul was productive and at peace. There was no way it could last.

The moment Juliet and Tweedir stepped together over the threshold into the office, the coffee machine immediately began to hiss and yowl like a cat shoved unceremoniously into a burlap sack. Caltrop scurried backwards away from the table, sending coffee grounds scattering over the floor. Before Juliet could open her mouth to shout over the blare, she was cut off by several people at once.

"Chlorella, what did you _do_?" snapped Holly, reaching for her gun as she hopped fluidly down from the desk and pivoted to face the mechanical threat.

"We were fine thirty seconds ago! You jinxed it!" Dodo yelped, turning to Juliet with her hands clamped over her ears.

"I - I didn't do anything! Maybe it doesn't like being around humans?" suggested Caltrop. Irritated bubbles rose rapidly in his gill tanks as he took another step away from the machine. "Can we - glub! - just shut it up already?"

Juliet took a cautious step back over the threshold. "Artemis is human and he's been here all afternoon!" she protested. Behind her, Tweedir shuffled his feet a little. This was not an argument he wanted to get in the middle of.

"Nah, we're still not a hundred percent sure he isn't part vampire," quipped Sass, raising her voice to ensure it carried over the din.

Artemis lifted his head. _"I heard that!"_

Perhaps, given an extra moment, he would have sprouted a more witty comeback.

What happened instead was an explosion. With a magnificent screech and a plume of steam that held a cloud of coffee grinds aloft for a moment in a perfect mushroom cloud formation, the coffee machine decided to exit this mortal coil.

It was spectacular.

Caltrop wailed, Artemis and Dodo both ducked down beneath their respective desks for protection, Sass cheered, Juliet skipped to the side to avoid an errant piece of shrapnel, Tweedir retreated back behind the doorframe, and Holly shot the smoking crater in the table top.

And then shot it twice more for good measure.

-x-

Morning arrived much too early for the personnel of Police Plaza that Saturday. Kelp was on his third cup of sim-coffee by the time he arrived at the office, having slept no more than two hours. At least, he reflected, the worst of the crisis had been dealt with the previous night. Today would be slower and a good deal less chaotic.

Or so Kelp believed until he stepped through the double doors to see fairies literally running to and fro down the halls.

"Please tell me," Kelp sighed, pausing at the secretary's desk, "that Fowl did not crash another shuttle."

"No sir," the sprite dutifully replied. "The computer system crashed in the administration wing less than an hour ago. They're still trying to get everything back online."

Kelp stilled, a shiver of apprehension running down his back. In his mind's eye, he could still see it clearly: the box filled with papers that Fowl had dropped onto his desk less than twenty-four hours ago. _"What's in the box?"_ he had asked. And what had Fowl replied?

" _An incentive. I realize that authorizing the relocation of LEPfoul will be a controversial decision. Have administration enter these forms into the main system; within two days, the rest of the building will be begging you to make us move off-premises."_

Kelp struggled to control himself. "And how long will it take for systems to run again?"

The secretary shrugged. "Depends on what caused the problem. So far, nobody knows."

Kelp sighed, took one last swig of his coffee, and slammed the empty cup down on the counter. "Botti, have someone refill this for me. I'll be in admin."

-x-

Foaly trotted over, wringing his hands desperately. "One moment," he brayed, pushing aside the techie hovering over the nearest computer.

Kelp raised his refilled mug and took a sip, grimacing at the lackluster taste. He turned back to the aide. "You got this from the basement break room?"

"Yessir."

He frowned and tasted the brew again. For one horrid instant, Kelp wondered if the sudden decline in the taste of the sim coffee could also be the fault of LEPfoul - and then he dismissed the idea. Clearly the stress of such a long night followed by the system failure this morning had made him paranoid.

"Almost got it," Foaly mumbled, plugging in one last wire before pausing to crack his knuckles. "Here goes nothing." With one finger, he delicately pressed the start-up key before pulling away and watching the screen intently.

The entire room held their breath. For half a minute, the computer did nothing; then, a soft whirring sounded from the terminal as the system began to turn itself on. A spinning disk appeared above a blue bar that gradually stretched the length of the screen.

Foaly beamed and turned to Kelp. "And once again, the true genius of the LEP saves the day."

The moment the bar touched the opposite end of the screen, a hair-raising _screeeeeeeeech_ blasted from every speaker in the building. Simultaneously, every single member of the LEP engaged in evasive action to avoid the imminent canary attack.

To understand exactly how much chaos those two words - "evasive action" - entailed, it is necessary to fully comprehend the impact that Lucia's short reign of terror had left upon Police Plaza. In the five months since the holy terror of a bird had first opened her beak to screech through those corridors, the canary had made herself into something of a legend. Not one of those offbeat "alligators in the sewers" kind of urban legends, either. No, Lucia evoked the sort of tale that involved missing college students, horrific monster attacks, and well-intentioned police officers that never again saw the light of day.

And those were only the true stories. The myths were even worse.

Five months was not enough time to practice evasive Lucia actions. A lifetime would not have been long enough. As the speakers blared, the sound rang crystal-clear through every single hallway. It came from everywhere at once, and lingered. It echoed.

It was majestic.

In accounting, a group of gnomes barricaded themselves down one hallway, overturning desks and tables with all the precision of a military squad. Botti, having just settled once more in her seat at the front desk, squeaked and dove for cover. A pair of pixies dressed in matching fluorescent pink gave identical piercing screams as they both pivoted in opposite directions, colliding heads with enough force to concuss them both for several moments before their magic kicked in and healed each other. In the boiler room that had once belonged to LEPfoul, a technician in the middle of repairing the dismantled boilers yelped and dove for the nearest supply closet for cover. The lock stuck, and he spent the next four hours pounding on the door for help.

Somewhere, a fire alarm began to blare. Moments later, just as the last ringing tones of the bird's screech died out, the building's sprinklers came on. These sprinklers, it must be noted, used the exact same technology as fire-fighting blaster shells - half a gallon of water blasted upon the perceived flames, instead of poured.

The effect was dramatic, to say the least.

A sodden Kelp found himself squished in a corner between Foaly and a knot of anxious interns. "But the bird's _dead_!" he protested weakly.

Foaly shuddered, shedding a sheet of water. "I wouldn't be so sure of that," he said. "But this was Fowl's doing, rest assured."

The commander gave him a sour look, though the impact of it was much lessened by the fact that he currently looked more like a half-drowned cat than like a police commander. "You _would_ say that."

Foaly huffed. "Sure, blame the centaur."

-x-

Had Sass shown up on time to the office on any other day, it would have been cause for celebration. As things were, no other member of LEPfoul had gotten around to leaving the night before, too busy with the set-up and organization of their new workspace. Even Juliet had stayed belowground, setting herself to the task of improving the office's security. She'd left the room about an hour ago to "negotiate" with the downstairs neighbours. Staffed primarily by a group of young elves who had met in business school and promptly decided they could revolutionize the advertising industry, the agency downstairs had (unfortunately for everybody involved) not kept the entrance to their office completely clear, electing instead to block it with a giant inflatable strawberry. Nobody quite knew what this was supposed to advertise; Juliet promptly declared that she didn't care, and set off to go make them take it down.

This was one of only several small dramas that had taken place that morning. As a result, no one had noticed Sass disappear. Yet, somehow, all were made aware of her triumphant return.

"I come bearing gifts!" Sass brayed loudly, holding aloft a rectangular metal box that looked similar to a human radio. She did a round of the office, pretending to admire the changes that had been made since she'd left while actually doing her best to arouse curiosity. As no one else had energy to spare, the attempt was less than successful.

Slumped in a wheely chair in the corner of the room, it was Caltrop who finally gave in. "What _is_ it?"

"Aha!" Sass exclaimed. "I am so very glad you asked. I present Uncle Foaly 2.0!"

Holly had been attempting to nap with her head down on her new desk. At Sass's words, she sat up, back rod-straight. "Foaly _what?"_

"It's his Artificial Intelligence," continued Sass, setting to work fiddling with a set of wires that still dangled from an outlet on one of the walls. "Or one of them, anyway. He's got them everywhere now. I like the version in his house the best - his nav-bot system has been super smug ever since he got trapped in a time-stop with a group of goblins."

This remark was met by a horrified silence as everyone imagined multiple AIs all based on Foaly's personality, and contemplated the disaster that would occur should they ever collaborate. Oblivious, Sass hooked the last wire up, tapped the box twice, and twisted a knob that was only there for decoration.

The AI came to life. "Actually," it began with a voice eerily similar to Foaly's own, "There's totally only one of me. Portable, y'know. Foaly and I decided it was time I took a road trip, and I convinced dear Sass to give me a lift!"

Holly heaved a sigh of relief. "So there's only one of you?"

"Wait," interrupted Dodo. "You played prison warden for a bunch of goblins, yet Foaly feels you're needed here? _What does that say about us?_ "

"Well, I've also babysat his kids. And they're almost worse than the goblins!" If the AI had possessed a spine, a shudder would have run down it. "But yup - here I am! All yours, mates!"

"That doesn't answer my question," objected the dwarf.

Caltrop nudged her in the side. "Maybe we don't wanna know the answer," he glubbed, downtrodden.

Sass cast an anxious glance around the room. "How come Fowl's not making faces at me? I'd have thought he'd be _so_ not okay with me bringing an AI in here."

Caltrop jammed a thumb over his shoulder. Two hours ago, LEPfoul's human consultant had started to run a complete stress test on the department's new databases. In the ten minutes the program had taken to compile the results, the mental strain and physical exertion of the previous day and a half had caught up with him; the next time anybody looked over to check on Artemis, the human had fallen asleep on his desk. Given the situation, nobody was quite brave enough to wake him.

Until now.

Sass stamped a foot, thinking for a moment before cupping her hands around her mouth and unleashing her best Lucia _screech_. Even though Caltrop had seen it coming, he still dropped to his knees to seek cover behind his desk. The AI cringed, running the sound clip through the recent Police Plaza security footage. "Oh," it said. "That makes sense, now. That's where you got the bird call for the Lucia box!"

"No, clearly we cloned the bird and brought her back from the dead," snapped a now-awake Artemis in his most sarcastic tone, lifting his head from his desk. Holly winced.

"Oh, no worries - I won't tell anybody. Dudes, a confession: I am almost ashamed to admit this but I've totally been arrested before," confided the AI. "So your secret's safe with me. I'm cool like that!"

It was unclear which secret he was referring to - the box or the clone. Given present company, neither Holly nor Artemis intended to press.

"You're an AI," noted Artemis, changing the topic. "What kind of laws even govern -"

Dodo cut him off. "Wait a moment. Show of hands: who here doesn't have a criminal record?"

The only hand that raised belonged to the only human in the room. "Technically, I've never been arrested -" Artemis began, before catching the look on Holly's face and reluctantly drawing his arm back down to his side.

"Nobody?" asked Dodo, her gaze darting around the room. "Holly?"

The elf, her arms folded, shot another glare at Artemis. "Well, it wasn't _my_ fault. And I don't see your hand up either, Feldspar."

Dodo had gone pink, clearly regretting even asking the question. "I was young," she said primly before sitting back down at her desk and returning swiftly to her work.

-x-

The individuals in charge of such matters had elected to wait the customary forty-eight hours before holding a memorial for Demia. This was long enough for there to be debate about the appropriateness of such a ceremony; given the situation surrounding the girl's death, the final verdict had been unanimous.

The customary candle had been lit, though the flame itself did not seem to be moving. Glowing at the tip, the only testament to the passage of time was the faint movement of the wick as it curled in against itself like a mimosa leaf reacting against the pressure of a fingertip, retreating slowly in the hopes of sustaining life for a moment or two longer.

It was a testament to the silence in the room that the flame did not waver. In a traditional recycling ceremony, words would be spoken. Loved ones would recite passages from the Book and deliver epitaphs, and friends would share memories to begin the healing process. There would be tears, but also laughter; above all else, there would be the start of closure. Public ceremonies were an occasion for more decorum: officials would show up in uniform and scripted verses would be delivered. Even then, it was often joked that a good life was one lived in such a way that somebody would accidentally knock the candle from the table before it had a chance to burn down.

Demia Carter had not quite been a friend to the People. Not quite an enemy, but not quite a friend. Her funeral was silent and still, and the flame never once threatened to go out.

-x-

Artemis only realized he'd caught Holly's hand in his own when he felt her fingers slip from his after the ceremony. He turned back and caught the direction of her gaze, which followed Becquerel Jones as his guards escorted the boy back to his holding cell.

"The closure will help," Artemis said softly.

"The mindwipe will help," Holly corrected, tearing her eyes away to look up to Artemis's face. Then she blinked and glanced down again.

He frowned. For once, the human found it impossible to read his best friend's face. "What are you thinking, Holly?"

The question was asked gently, and so the elf responded honestly. "The last time I was at one of these ceremonies, it was yours. After the Crash. We found out later that Mulch had rigged the candle ahead of time - when it hit the halfway point, it began blowing so much smoke that we had to evacuate two city blocks. Nothing dangerous to breathe, of course. Just impossible to see through." She exhaled, straightening her posture to come a little closer to being on eye-level with him. "He thought you'd have appreciated the gesture."

Artemis swallowed hard, bowing his head. "I'll have to tell him he was correct in that assessment."

Together they wandered a little bit further down the street, keeping pace with an ease that came from months of practice. For a while neither of them could find words, and so they walked in silence. It was only when they turned onto a quieter street away from the push and pull of the crowd that Artemis finally opened his mouth once more. "Do you remember one of the first things you ever said to me?"

Holly furrowed her brow. Now was not the time to go at picking old scars, and so her reprimand lacked real venom. "It's hazy from the tranquilizer, actually."

"You told me that I had no idea what I was dealing with. Nothing could have been further from the truth, yet you warned me all the same. Demia Carter entered into this situation blind, Holly. If we had been given the freedom to treat her differently when we first crossed paths, perhaps -" Artemis cut himself off, shaking his head sharply once. "It doesn't matter. This will not happen again. No more funerals."

"If you ever leave me in a position where I'm helpless to act in a crisis again, this will happen again," said the elf, extending her hand to tap four times against the inside of his wrist. "I'll strangle you myself if you get out of it in one piece. You don't ever leave me to man the rescue vehicle. Understood?"

He tapped twice in return against the palm of her hand. "Perfectly."

Their arms dropped once more. Another silent moment passed; they walked another few paces.

Artemis would later acknowledge that he probably should have let the subject go. With that same mild tone, however, he could not resist one last comment on the situation. "If our positions had been reversed, after everything we've been through together, you would be insulted if I doubted your ability to handle yourself in a crisis."

Holly immediately stopped walking, shaking her head in vigorous disagreement. Artemis heeled beside her, turning to wait for an answer. To Holly's credit, it only took her a couple of seconds to articulate why he was wrong.

"It's not about that," she said. "Not the same comparison at all. I know what you're capable of in a crisis, and it's not about that."

"Then, what is it about?"

She lifted her mismatched eyes, meeting his gaze. "When fairies are injured, we heal. When humans get hurt, you bruise."

Up until that moment, Artemis had nearly forgotten about the mark on his cheek. Overnight, the spot where Becquerel Jones punched him had turned a florid shade of purple, swollen green around the edges. He reached up to prod it, and winced. Holly shook her head in exasperation, gesturing to him; knowing better than to fight her, Artemis bowed his head enough to let her reach. This time, he held still and allowed her fingertips to brush against the wound.

"Heal," the elf whispered. Her magic immediately and effortlessly complied.

"Thank you," the human said quietly, straightening once more. He resisted the urge to touch the side of his face to verify that the bruise was gone, trusting her enough to know that she had taken care of it completely.

The rest of the walk back to the new LEPfoul office was silent.

-x-

"Have you _any idea_ what your human did?"

The worst part of this conversation was the fact that this was not the first time, in recent months, that Holly had been asked that question. By now, her response was automatic: "He's not _my_ human!" And then, a moment later, she remembered to add, "What did he do?"

She was playing dumb. While Artemis had taken the liberty of delivering the Lucia box to Kelp on his own, Holly had actually contributed to the plan: the system crash may have been of Artemis's design, but the Lucia screech had been entirely her idea. She'd seen firsthand the havoc that bird could wreak upon unprepared interns. This was not going to stop her from letting him take all the credit, so long as it prevented Kelp from learning the extent of her involvement.

And so far, it seemed that he had no idea. "The entire admin system, Holly. _The entire system._ Nothing critical went down but everything and anything involving paperwork -" He paused to take a deep breath.

"Well, you did originally hire him to do the paperwork," Holly cut in mildly.

"This isn't funny," Kelp growled. "I had to yell at people about paperwork. Me. Yelling at people about paperwork!"

Holly shook her head, an amused smile tugging at her lips. "Never thought we'd see the day."

"And that isn't even the worst of it. Holly, that screeching won't _stop._ If it were on a regular cycle, we could at least be prepared but it's completely random. I have never seen more fairies walking around with nervous twitches." He paused. "We're supposed to be a police force, d'arvit!"

Holly hummed in sympathy, doing her best not to laugh at the memory of the interns lined up to audition for the role of Lucia. They'd expected to have to pitch-shift the loudest one to make it match the bird's tones; instead, Sass had opened her mouth and blown them all away. "How's Jones?" she asked, changing the topic before Kelp blew a gasket.

Kelp sighed, rubbing his face. "We've administered the mindwipe on Jones and his family. I have a team at the residence cleaning up any loose ends as we speak. When the boy wakes up, the last few month's escapades will have been replaced by an extended trip to Stanford."

"Stanford?" Holly repeated.

"Human university," he clarified. "Even had the centaur hack into their systems and give the kid a doctorate. Should keep him busy for a while. LEPfoul's officially hands-off the entire situation, by the way. We're taking it from here." A screech sounded in the background of the call. Kelp jerked and then scowled. "You hear that?"

Holly tried to keep a straight face. "Loud and clear, Commander."

And then it happened again. Louder, this time. Closer. Kelp paled. "That's not coming from the speakers. Where is that sound coming from?" Another moment passed, and another screech rang out. _"Where is - Why is it louder?"_

"Trouble?" asked Holly, finally showing genuine concern.

Kelp's voice dropped. "D'arvit. _D'arvit._ She's back. She can't be back! That's impossible!" And then again, his voice rising in pitch with panic, _"She's back!"_

Perhaps if Kelp had not been so committed to his open-door office policy, the imminent attack could have been avoided. As it was, the bird faced no resistance. A streak of yellow shot across the screen of the camera. The last thing Holly saw before the connection cut was a sideways still of Kelp, arms held defensively in front of his face. Another garbled screech cut across the line. And then the feed went dark.

-x-

"You didn't _actually_ smuggle the bird back out of the tunnel somehow, did you?"

Artemis raised both eyebrows in surprise. Holly sighed.

"I felt the need to check."

"Fowl protocol. Understood."

-x-

Ten minutes later the entire team - with the addition of Juliet, who was perched proudly atop a confiscated inflatable giant strawberry - had gathered in a rough semicircle in the middle of the office around a projector screen. Artemis had removed a simple USB drive from the heel of his loafer and plugged it into the LEPfoul mainframe, ignoring Juliet's slightly sheepish apologies for using said flashdrive as the host for a tracker.

"I need to confess that I've lied to you all," Artemis began, tapping the screen to open a spreadsheet document.

Holly snapped. "You lied to me about the bird?"

"No, I lied to you about something else." He seemed moderately offended that she'd even asked.

"I'm absolutely floored by this turn of events," muttered Sass under her breath, swishing her tail across the tile floor. Rather than taking a seat, she had simply folded her legs beneath her and lay down. Caltrop, leaning uneasily against her side, elbowed the centaur in the ribs and received a prod to the gill tubes for his trouble. Without missing a beat, Dodo reached over and smoothly readjusted the devices before the water sprite could begin to choke; flushing blue, Caltrop mumbled his thanks.

Artemis made a point of ignoring the interns as he prodded the screen again. A list appeared suspended in the air before him - names, addresses, ages, and other assorted information spread out in neat columns and rows. He began to scroll through, just slowly enough to allow the others to skim the information: equal numbers male and female, locations scattered all over the globe and names from all cultures, no age over twenty, and no IQ listed below 160. With a flick of his finger, he returned to the top of the list. "When I said I needed to identify Changelings on a case by case basis, I lied. I've actually kept tabs on close to two hundred individuals for years now." He glanced across the table to Holly, furrowing his brow. "Upon our encounter with Minerva Paradizo and the subsequent return from Hybras, I compiled this list and have kept it relatively up to date ever since. The Crash did damage my systems, but fortunately I did not have this list entered into any computer." He paused. "I'd simply memorized it. As relevant situations came up, I pretended to be hearing about each individual Changeling for the first time."

He did not need to say that this had been a risky enough maneuver - the information had, at one point, come extremely close to being lost altogether. Across the room Holly opened her mouth as though to protest, and then reconsidered. When she spoke, it was cautiously. "And you didn't mention this earlier because...?"

"Because I know how the LEP responds to threats. I've taken care to keep this data offline for exactly that reason: Foaly and I have built systems that are impervious to outside intrusion, but we have access to so many of each other's files that it would only be a matter of time until he found this. And if the centaur became aware of this information, he'd have to report it to his superiors. In that scenario, they would be bound to act upon it. Unfortunately, the worst thing we could possibly do at this point in time is make one hundred and eighty-one very intelligent potential enemies." Artemis frowned. "I've believed for years that human children are becoming smarter. What we've experienced over the last several months, however, should have been statistically impossible. After my initial meeting with Demia Carter, I asked Minerva Paradizo for her input on the matter. She returned to me several days later with a list similar to mine - in fact, approximately 86% of the names overlapped. Even if children are becoming more intelligent, we should not have found this many anomalies. Independently, we verified each other's conclusions: the Changeling phenomenon, as we've been referring to it, is not an isolated series of events. We're looking at a situation on a global scale."

"Wait. I knew you'd contacted her, but I wasn't aware that you and Minerva are actually on friendly terms," interrupted Holly. The interns may have been sitting in rapt attention, but she'd been present at a few too many Fowl explanations to be awed. "When did this happen, and does this mean we're allowed to talk about her again?"

Artemis quirked an eyebrow. "Holly, you know exactly what happened: I had a very long six months and gained a sense of perspective." Brushing the question aside, he continued, "The point I'm trying to make is that we need to be here. I'm coming forward with this list now because we are no longer attached to Police Plaza's mainframe. It's risky to bring this information online, but after what happened to Demia Carter, we have no choice. Simply knowing these individuals exist is not enough. They all need to be monitored in case they become aware of the existence of the People and, if they do attain that information, action needs to be taken to prevent them from instigating a crisis." He lifted his head to address the rest of the department. "Holly and I have seen firsthand - it only takes one mishandled situation to change everything."

"That's why we left Police Plaza?" asked Caltrop, rocking forward a little bit as though it would help him hear with more accuracy. "It had nothing to do with the boilers after all?"

Artemis nodded. "Exactly. We can no longer afford to deal with the Changeling situation on a case-by-case basis - we need to be more coordinated. We have the people and the resources to make this the priority for our department. Any objections?"

Holly swore under her breath. "If even one of these kids steps over a line, the consequences -" she began, but could not bring herself to finish the sentence. Artemis nodded.

"That's why we're here," he reassured her, for a moment ignoring the rest of the room completely. He spoke earnestly and studied her face intently, finally lowering his hand from the screen; behind him, the names still hung suspended in the air. "It won't happen. We won't let it."

-x-

The last remnants of a patchwork dream were fading when Becquerel woke. He was stretched out on his stomach, one hand curled beneath the pillow while the other arm hung loosely over the edge of the mattress. Caught between waking and sleeping, there was one disorienting moment when Bec could not remember where he was - then his eyes flickered open and he saw the dark green pillowcase. _Of course, my bed. Where else would I be?_

It wasn't until he lifted his head that Bec realized the pillow beneath him was wet. He reached his arm up to touch his cheek and realized, groggily, that he must have been crying in his sleep. The teenager closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what on earth he'd been dreaming of. It was impossible to recall, and he rubbed at his eyes furiously with the side of his hand, blinking hard. The glow of the alarm clock on his bedside table was reassuring, familiar, as it always was. Shuddering, Bec exhaled and sank back into his pillow.

_Makes sense that I can't remember. Just a dream. Must've been some dream, though it's probably for the best that I've got no idea what it was about._

He shifted, trying to burrow once more into the cocoon of his blankets. It was no good - he couldn't get comfortable. Grumbling a little to himself, Bec reached to flip his pillow over, hitting it a few times for good measure. Finally laying back down, the teenager shut his eyes once again.

Within moments, he had fallen back asleep. This time, he did not wake until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the majestic bird, we're back! After a stressful few weeks of final papers, presentations, and exams, the semester has come to an end and the two of us are back to Foul Team. Hurrah! - Winged
> 
> If you're curious, S2 of Foul Team is going to look a lot like S1 in format: seven episodes and various webisodes, telling a story that plays into a larger three-season arc. There's a lot of exposition in this episode, but we tried to lay out the foundations for how LEPfoul is going to function through the next season. Whee, changes! Also, I know we promised we'd be posting other things on this account, but unfortunately that other project ballooned into something entirely unrelated that'll take us a lot longer than a couple of weeks to finish - and so, we're back on LEPfoul duty! - Freud
> 
> No, seriously, that other project's scenes multiplied like interns. - Winged
> 
> And, as I was saying before Winged interrupted me, thank you so much for reading and staying with us! We hope you'll enjoy where this story is going to go! - Freud


	10. Slender Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 2.02: The team learns that Artemis is the source of the Slenderman mythos when a new Changeling begins to piece things together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have guessed from the title, this episode talks about Slenderman. Hopefully by now you've got an idea of our sense of humor, and we're keeping in that spirit - however, if you are seriously squicked by Slendy, just scroll through to the bottom and we'll summarize the events of this episode in an A/N at the end for you! 
> 
> (If you haven't heard of Slenderman before, it's an internet urban legend that generally appears as a tall, thin figure dressed in a suit. He has a featureless face and, often, tentacles instead of arms. Pictures usually feature Slenderman lurking in the background.)

He still hadn't stopped.

When Holly had walked into the kitchen that morning to discover that Artemis had entirely disassembled the dishwasher only to put it back together in a way that he claimed would be forty percent more efficient, she had assumed it was an isolated incident - nervous energy, perhaps. Next, he had disappeared into the bathroom to repair a leaky faucet; by the time he emerged, her entire plumbing system had been upgraded. Slightly worried, Holly had retreated into the living room only to discover that, at some point, Artemis had also found the time to reorganize her digital library.

It had officially gone too far.

Now it was the middle of the afternoon, Artemis still hadn't stopped, and Holly was seriously concerned. He'd pried a glowbar from the ceiling and pulled off the casing to attack the wiring with a pair of pliers. "It's been flickering upon power-up," he explained. "Not a massive problem, but could lead to a circuit short later on."

Holly folded her arms. "Whatever you did, am I going to get in trouble for it?"

Artemis paused. "Pardon?"

"Fowl, I have been watching you play this game all day. What did you do, and how is it going to come back to haunt me?"

Artemis stared at her a second longer before returning his attention to the glowbar, giving the pliers one last half-turn before setting them aside with satisfaction. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Let me rephrase: What don't you want me finding out?"

"That is even less specific, and I am insulted by the implications," he said, not sounding particularly offended at all. "But as we are currently on the topic, I do need your signature for -"

" _I knew it!"_ she hissed, poking a finger into his chest. "And the answer is no."

"You don't even know what I need your signature for."

She jabbed at him again. "And yet, I am already dead certain I don't want to be signing anything."

Unperturbed, Artemis reached into his pocket for his smartphone. With a quick flick of his fingers, he pulled up the document on the lightscreen and held it out to her.

Holly hesitated before snatching the phone for a closer look. A quick skim of its contents merely solidified her decision. "Absolutely not."

"But Holly," Artemis protested, "I've now been working out of Haven for six months, and I need this permit to remain in the city. If I am not here, LEPfoul falls apart."

"You don't need my signature to remain in the city. You need it to remain living in my apartment. If I don't sign it, you have to find your own place to live and sign it yourself." The elf folded her arms. "The answer is still no."

She had, in fact, been aware that this was coming - for the last six months, a calendar on her communicator had been counting down the days until her human friend's temporary work permit expired. Three more to go. To her credit, Holly managed to avoid a smile.

-x-

Clutching a cup of lukewarm coffee that he had picked up on the way to work that morning, Caltrop stifled a yawn as he stepped into the LEPfoul office. The room was dim, with only the light from the street outside filtering through the window. The water sprite blinked in muted surprise.

"Foaly two point oh?" he called out cautiously, stepping around the inflatable strawberry that somehow still hadn't been removed from the office. "Am I the first one - glub! - here this morning?"

"Dude. Can you stop calling me that?" In the corner, the AI's interface lit up and almost immediately shifted to a rather irritated shade of orange. "It's embarrassing."

"It's . . . your name?" Caltrop set his sim-coffee down on the edge of his desk, reaching to adjust his gill tank with his free hand.

"Yeah, but it's not my _name_ , you dig?"

Caltrop tipped his head. "You have another name?"

"Oh my - dude, I don't have any other name!" Immediately, the interface's lights shifted to a downcast shade of blue. "Dude. What kind of intelligent personality doesn't even have a name of their own? Oh, wow. That's so lame."

"Look, I didn't mean it," said Caltrop, flicking a finger against his tank to readjust the flow of bubbles through the tube. As helpful as the artificial personality could be, it was temperamental to a fault. Best to head off the oncoming temper tantrum before it had a chance to begin. "Just... pick a name and we'll start calling you that."

"Huh." The lights flickered in thought. "Caltrop. That's a cool name."

"That's _my_ name!"

"Exactly, dude!"

"No, no, no. See, that's not - glub! - not how names work! If you wanna be called 'Caltrop' we may as well keep calling you 'Foaly' because it's the exact same thing!"

"No, I don't want to be called 'Foaly,' I wanna be called something cool like 'Caltrop'!"

"But that's _my_ name!"

By the time Dodo arrived, twenty minutes later with her own sim-coffee in tow, they were still arguing in circles. It wasn't until Holly and Artemis showed up, nearly ten minutes after the dwarf, that anybody was able to break it up and set the two of them to work: Artemis glared at the water sprite until Caltrop remembered that he actually did have work to get done that morning, while Holly threatened to shoot Foaly 2.0.

Again.

-x-

"Maeve! No way. You look fabulous!"

A troll scrambled around the booth, nearly knocking over a pair of superheroes in his haste to catch up with the girl.

She didn't turn until he tugged playfully on her scarf, nearly pulling half of it off her shoulder in the process. With a slight frown, Maeve caught the bundle of wool before it could slide to the ground and shot an accusatory glare over her shoulder. She was a tall girl with dark hair and skin, with a long stride and a mouth that was in constant motion. In defiance of the flurry of costumes on the convention floor, her outfit was relatively plain. The only indication that she had prepared for the convention at all was the scarf itself, a concoction of bold tan, purple, red, turquoise, and yellow wool. It was nearly twice as long as she was tall, which was no mean feat; if asked, she would proudly admit that she had knit it herself. In one of her pockets nestled a replica sonic screwdriver. When she saw who had stopped her, however, the girl pursed her lips in confusion for just a moment.

"Surprise! You remember me, right? Your buddy, Ray?" the troll exclaimed, spreading his arms wide. "Love the scarf, by the way."

"Ray," Maeve responded, a strained smile stretching her face. "Wonderful costume. Let me guess, you're the crabby one."

Ray beamed, pointing a gray-gloved finger to the candy-corn horns stuck to his head. "Right in one! I was gonna be the juggalo but the horns wouldn't stay put so I had to improvise. But how've you been? I haven't talked to you in ages!"

Maeve shrugged, wracking her memory for where exactly she knew Ray from. There was something familiar about the teenager, but she couldn't quite place his face. It was disconcerting, to say the least. "Oh, you know - working on this and that. Recently, I've started looking into the Slenderman mythos. It's absolutely fascinating, you know. Are you familiar -?"

"Hey, yeah, I've heard of Slenderman!" Ray assured her.

"Well. It's mathy. Really mathy. I'm basically reinventing how physics works." Typically she would not be so open with the object of her research, but she had learned at a very young age that discussing her findings tended to end casual conversations in record time. "Did you know that gravity might not be exactly 9.81 meters per second after all? So much math, it's ridiculous. I'm trying to tie it into these images I found, because I noticed that fractal patterns of distortion may actually tie back into fluctuations in natural phenomena, and -"

"Wow," he interrupted, jamming his hands inside the pockets of his dark jeans. "That's really cool. Go you! I'm, uh, I totally need to catch a picture with that cosplayer over there so catch ya later!"

Maeve waved her sonic helplessly. "But I haven't even gotten to the good part yet. About how the pictures can't be photoshopped because they're mathematically consistent with - oh, and you're gone. Okay." She adjusted her scarf and rolled her shoulders back, tilting her head to stretch out a kink in her neck. "Finally," she muttered, before continuing on her way.

-x-

"Eugh," cringed Caltrop, staring in dismay at his computer screen. One hand hovered over the keyboard, ready to exit out of the tab, yet he couldn't quite bring himself to stop reading. One more section, and then he would -

" _Screeeech!"_

Caltrop flailed and was halfway beneath the desk before he remembered that Lucia was no longer a danger to him in these offices. "Sass!" he squeaked, releasing a flurry of bubbles through his gill tubes. "Stop doing that!"

"Whatcha reading?" the centaur asked, ignoring his glare. She bent over his shoulder to peer at the screen. "Slenderman? Isn't this one of those human urban myths? Delightfully creepy. Hey - there's this _great_ human game you should play -"

Caltrop interrupted her before she could change the topic. "Yes, Slenderman," he said with as much dignity as he could muster. "One of the Changelings has been researching this stuff for the last few w-weeks. I can't - glub! - can't see how it'd be important, but it's eaten up so much of her Internet history that I - well, feel like maybe we should -"

Sass shrugged. "Aren't we only worried about when they find out about the People? Who cares whether some genius kid is wasting all her time on urban myths?"

Across the room, Artemis raised his head. "Think about what you just said. You are a fairy. To the majority of the human race, you _are_ an urban myth."

Silence followed his statement. Artemis sighed. "What are we looking at?"

"S-Slenderman," Caltrop said. "It's a real urban myth so we can just leave it b-be, right?"

Rather than answer directly, Artemis asked, "Where is the Changeling located?"

Caltrop's heart sank.

-x-

Upon leaving the convention hall, Maeve nearly walked right past the troll again. He was perched on a bench outside, with his head bent down and his wig still perched neatly on top of his head.

"Hang on, I know you!" Maeve huffed, reaching forward to snatch the synthetic hair from the boy's head. Ray attempted to duck out of the way, but not quickly enough; when Maeve drew her arm back she took the wig with her. It hung like a dead animal in her grip, and she lowered her hand quickly. "I saw you this morning - you were in the coffee shop!"

"Yeah, I'm a barista. I work at the café just down the road, the one that's right across from the community centre...?"

"So if you work here, _why did I see you last night in the lobby of my hotel?"_

Ray gulped, spreading his fingers open against the bench as he finally uncurled to peer up at her. "Because I have a cousin in town, she's getting married! Please stop looking at me like that - !" He shifted, and Maeve looked down to the object in his lap. She gasped, outraged.

"That's my tablet!"

"You dropped it!"

"Like hell I dropped it!" Maeve wrestled the device away from the costumed teenager's grip, holding it up to examine it for damage with narrowed eyes. "You have thirty seconds to explain, or I'm pressing charges!"

"Fine, you win!" Ray scratched the back of his neck, where the bottom edge of his wig had been itching all afternoon. "My name is Raimo Eskola, I'm actually from around here -"

"The point!" Maeve snapped, tilting the tablet to study a scratch in the casing.

"Well," continued the boy without missing a beat, "I do work in that café, and when you were standing in line getting coffee two days ago I couldn't help but notice what was on that tablet of yours."

"And so you started stalking me?" It was Maeve's turn to step backwards; Ray sprang up from the bench to defend himself, spreading his hands before him, his fingers still covered in the costume gloves.

"No, not stalking! I'm just curious, that's all, I promise! Those numbers you've got there - they're really something, you know that?"

"They're mathy," said Maeve simply. "And you're not actually a cosplayer."

"I'm mathy!" he said, beaming. "And no, I'm not _technically_ a cosplayer, I just like to dress up. I _am_ sorry for following you but I saw just enough of your numbers to want to know what you were actually up to. I figured it didn't look like you'd thought to take your analysis - which is brilliant, by the way, so kudos to you there - and map it over real-world terrain! So I took your tablet when you were too busy to miss it, made some adjustments, and now you've got it back so everything is fine. Look right here!" The boy jabbed a gloved thumb at the screen, and Maeve rocked backwards on her heels to keep the tablet safe. "All your energy vectors converge in one particular spot, here!"

"Does this mean there's some poor unfortunate troll locked unconscious in a supply cupboard somewhere?" asked Maeve, crinkling her nose as she tilted the screen in an attempt to read it in the direct daylight.

"Nah." Ray shrugged, reaching to pry his wig back from the girl's hand. "He's unconscious in the security booth. I figured that way somebody will find him eventually." A brief frown flickered across Ray's face as he calculated. "Actually, no. He would be awake by now. And wondering where his costume went. And probably pretty crabby."

"You're insane," said the girl flatly, glancing downwards as she tapped her tablet once more to pull Ray's adjustments to the data into better resolution.

"I was being sarcastic?"

"You're insane."

Ray beamed, tucking his hair back beneath his wig as he set it smartly once more on his head. "And mathy."

-x-

Juliet twirled the end of her braid against the palm of her hand. "Maeve Connors spends too much time on the internet. Why does that mean I have to go find her in Finland? And _don't_ say it's because she lives there. I know _that._ "

She could have sworn Artemis cringed. "Did Butler ever tell you what transpired in Barcelona?"

"Oh, no." Apparently, he had.

"What happened in Barcelona?" asked a dutiful Caltrop, leaning in a little to hear the story.

Artemis frowned. "In Barcelona, I was briefly pulled between dimensions by a demon. No photographs were taken of that incident in the present day, but we nearly materialized in a myriad of places and times."

"So...?"

"So, when this half-materialization is caught on film, you can see the result. Images filtered across different points in time tend to shift, in a manner akin to passing light through a prism. My movements within the time tunnel became blurred in such a way that it would be possible for an individual of sufficient intelligence to trace the patterns of distortion backwards to mathematically quantify the energy fluctuations that had caused them. From there, the existence of inter-dimensional travel - and, by extension, the existence of magic itself - would be a simple matter to prove. You need to be in Finland because that is where Maeve Connors is, and I believe she is headed towards exactly this discovery."

Juliet ignored the last part of that statement. "You're saying that you're Slenderman," she said instead, folding her arms.

Holly rolled her eyes. "Of course you're Slenderman."

"By the time I discovered what had happened, several of the images had already been uploaded to the internet. To prevent any of them from being examined too closely, I manufactured an urban myth," admitted Artemis. "So, yes. That would be exactly what I am saying."

"Wait, you _wrote_ that stuff? That came out of _your_ head?" asked a horrified Caltrop. Everybody ignored him.

In hindsight, perhaps he was the only one who was at all surprised.

-x-

The first hint of trouble was a groan in the piping. Artemis glanced down, irritated, before turning his attention back to Holly. "This doesn't have to be difficult. You're making this difficult."

The elf gave a sound of exasperation. "Fowl, things are always difficult when you're involved!"

A trail of bubbles floated to the surface of the water cooler, followed by another groan. Neither of them paid any attention.

"It's a signature, Holly. You sign things all the time. We both know I will continue staying in your apartment, so you might as well just end this now."

"Oh, _you want me_ to end this now? Maybe _I want you_ to move out of my apartment. Did that even occur to you?"

This time, the sound the watercooler gave off was more akin to a loud creak. Artemis shot it a glare while pulling out his phone. "Here, I have the form with me now. Just sign the -"

"No, Fowl. I said no. Why don't you run along with Juliet and go annoy some fellow Mud Men on the surface?"

He gave her a look. "I already said I can't risk another Changeling seeing me. Certainly not this one, as the sight of me might cause her to draw associations between Slenderman and -"

Holly threw up her hands. "I don't care! It's my apartment, so this is my decision! Not yours!"

She took a menacing step forward as though to accentuate her point. In doing so, her elbow brushed gently against the side of the watercooler. A low gurgle sounded in protest, accompanied by another ominous creak. And then, before Artemis had even formed an angry retort, an explosion of water engulfed them both.

Holly did not think twice. While some part of Artemis's brain was busy calculating the exact velocity of the explosion in an attempt to triangulate the direction and magnitude of the concussive force that must have caused it, Holly fell back to decades of crisis response training. Before the last droplet of water had finished falling to the carpet, the elf had closed the gap between the two of them. She sprang at the human, pressing him down and out of the potential line of fire from the window. Artemis gasped in protest as he was knocked off his feet, Holly twisting a little to ensure he would not be injured by the impact - she was already mentally deciding upon escape routes, and needed him to be able to run.

"Stay down!" she hissed before he could protest. The elf didn't stop moving, rolling off to the side and reaching for her weapon. By the time she was right-side up again, Holly raised her head and barked at the stunned occupants of the office, "Lucia!"

There was no sign of the bird, of course. Holly simply knew that inside LEPfoul, the threat of the bird would be guaranteed to make her coworkers duck and cover more quickly than anything else she could possibly say. Sure enough, Caltrop squeaked and disappeared immediately while Dodo took the time to lift her fish tank carefully from the corner of her desk and take it with her to safety, cradling the glass aquarium in her arms to cushion it from any incoming shock. Sass bared her teeth a moment longer before reluctantly kneeling down and out of sight.

The AI, upon running diagnostics of the situation, blinked twice and flashed a reassuring chocolate-chip mint shade of green. "Chill, dudes! Something in the water cooler pressure valve just backfired. I'm not sure what, but I'm pretty sure nobody's trying to attack us, so everybody just take a deep breath and find their happy place, okay?" If the artificial personality had eyes, it would have rolled them in the direction of Holly and Artemis. "Gee, you'd think you two were half-expecting somebody to try to kill you guys or something."

Artemis pushed himself up off the carpet, noting in vague dismay that his suit was soaked. Behind them, the twisted remnants of the water cooler dribbled rivulets of liquid down to the floor. Aside from the faint sound of the dripping water, all was silent. Able to examine the wreckage now, he murmured his agreement with the centaur's assessment.

"You broke it," said Holly flatly, staring down at Artemis with her neutrino still gripped in her hand.

"I didn't touch it."

"Doesn't matter. This only happens when you're around!"

"Actually," said Dodo, poking her head up from behind her desk in a futile attempt to be helpful, "the other day one of Caltrop's gill compressors went when neither of you two were anywhere near the office."

Surprising nobody, Foaly 2.0 felt the need to give input on the situation. "I think the universe just hates us, dudes."

-x-

Maeve had barely settled in for a long flight when the person behind her started to kick the back of her seat. Gritting her teeth, she flipped open her novel in an attempt to ignore the irritation. It didn't help.

She managed to last until the plane was taxiing down the runway to take off before her temper snapped. "Would you stop that please?" she hissed, straining to peer through the seats to the culprit behind her.

Then she realized who it was. "No. Oh no. No way."

The teenager waving cheerfully at her was hardly recognizable as the troll she'd confronted outside the convention centre. With a shock of red hair and a set of thick-framed glasses, the only sign of his costume were the thin gray gloves that he still wore on both hands. His wide grin, however, was all too familiar.

"No," Maeve said again, and then, "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, the vectors all point to Barcelona, don't they?" Ray asked.

"Which explains why I am here," Maeve said tightly. "Why are you stalking me again?"

Ray leaned back, propping his feet up against the back of Maeve's seat and ignoring the glare of the passenger beside him. "Wait, no, I'm not stalking _you_! This is just fascinating!" he exclaimed. "Slenderman! Coordinates!" He winked. "Mathy stuff!"

Maeve groaned and turned to face frontward again. A moment later, a voice sounded over her shoulder, "So I was thinking when we arrive -"

Ray had leaned forward to peer through the gap in the seats, the sides of his face pressed firmly into the fabric. Without hesitation, Maeve pressed her hand over his mouth and pushed him back. A lock of his hair brushed against her hand and she realized with a start that it was synthetic. Another wig. _How,_ she wondered, _had he managed to get that through security?_

-x-

"And I just don't like it! You know, I bet if I had a name that was super awesome and smart and cool, everybody would have a much easier time seeing exactly how fantastic of a dude I really am," said the artificial intelligence in an especially whiney tone. It had taken it all morning to pick a voice interface that sounded nasal enough for the purpose, and he was secretly quite proud of the result.

"Well," said Dodo diplomatically as she delicately sponged another few drops of water from the intelligence's circuit board, "I can certainly see where that would be upsetting."

"It's hard trying to be a unique individual! It's hard, and nobody understands!" The lights on the AI's console flickered in time with the syllables, a lurid shade of orange that burned at the dwarf's retinas.

"Maybe," Dodo suggested as she shaded her eyes with one curled hand while the other held the sponge steady, "if you want a name that belongs to somebody else so badly, go read some stories or something and pick one from there. That way you can be named after somebody you admire."

"Hey!" exclaimed the AI, lighting up in a yellow burst. "You know, you're pretty smart, Dodo Feldspar. People don't give you enough credit for that, do they?"

The dwarf scuffed the toe of her boot against the carpet. "People give me enough credit," she said simply. "If they don't, it's their problem."

"I mean, dude, you're smart but people don't realize it. Maybe if you had the same name as _a super smart and cool AI,_ they would -"

"No!"

-x-

"All right," Juliet began, speaking into her phone as she looked out over Helsinki's cityscape. "I have successfully arrived in Helsinki like you asked. What am I supposed to do again?"

"Actually, our plans have changed," Artemis responded. "We need you to head to Barcelona."

" _Barcelona?"_ Juliet repeated. "You do realize that's hours away?"

"If you take the chutes, you'll arrive in plenty of time before Maeve."

Juliet looked down at the sunglasses clutched in her hand that she hadn't even had a chance to put on yet. With a sigh, she tucked them back into her bag. "There had better be a good reason for this."

Artemis coughed. "You can blame the centaur's artificial intelligence. Originally, I was planning to have you wait in Finland to meet with Maeve when she returned from Barcelona, but I'm afraid that will not work any longer. The AI was in the process of searching the internet for stories - for what reason, I have no idea - when he caught wind of Slenderman from an office discussion. It took less than a minute for him to read the Slenderman database, determine the internet was better off without the urban myth, and delete everything."

"Wait - everything? Like, _everything?_ Can you even do that? I thought the internet was forever."

"Not when a fairy's artificial intelligence is involved. As I said, blame the centaur."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "All right then. Why do I have to confront Maeve in Barcelona, then? Can't you just send someone to mind wipe her?"

"Not if the entire Internet is talking about the disappearance of Slenderman," replied Artemis. "It could easily trigger a recall. The only way to resolve this situation is to give her an answer. And what better closure than at the location where the incident began?"

-x-

Supervising the office clean-up had taken most of the morning. Even though they'd done everything in their power to encourage the place to dry out more quickly, Artemis's loafers still squished against the sodden carpet. It was bad enough to be walking around with wet socks when one had the normal number of toes; adding an extra digit to the equation only ensured that he had spent all morning acutely aware of how uncomfortable he was.

Compounding matters, the marketing agency downstairs had already sent a rather peevish-looking sprite up to complain about the fact that their ceiling had begun to drip on their weekly "meeting of the minds." The human had glared at the poor sprite so intensely that she had only gotten half a sentence out before deciding that perhaps a career in marketing wasn't exactly for her.

Artemis cast a glance across the room. Along the opposite wall, Holly was deep in conversation with Foaly's artificial intelligence. She seemed to be threatening to shoot it again; her fingers drummed rhythmically against the barrel of her neutrino, and Artemis kept catching his own hands twitching in response. "I'll go find us a new water cooler," he volunteered, just loudly enough to be sure that the elf heard him.

"The answer's still no, Mud Boy," responded Holly without looking up. "I'm not signing that form."

"Why must you always assume that I've got an ulterior motive?"

"Do you seriously expect an answer to that question?"

"I was not making any attempt to -"

"Of course you were, it's _you_ we're talking about -"

"But Holly-"

"I'll go instead," interrupted Dodo, brushing her hands together as she stood up from her desk. "Could use the fresh air."

"Me too!" said Sass quickly, springing up and turning towards the door. "I think Dodo and I can handle this one! You two just stay here and -"

"Can I come?" asked Caltrop, a hopeful air bubble pulsing through his gill tube.

"Nah, we've got it!" the centaur reassured him, already halfway out the door with Dodo right behind her.

"But I'm head intern!" said Caltrop pointlessly. Artemis, on his way back to his desk, tried to nod in a way that was reassuring without being patronizing. It didn't quite work.

"And no, you _can't start calling yourself 'Holly'!"_ said the elf as she returned once more to her argument with the artificial intelligence. "That's not how names work!"

-x-

_Do not engage the Changelings_ was top amongst the LEPfoul's surveillance rules. In the weeks since the department had started operating under their newfound directive, this rule had been repeated often enough that anyone would have to be particularly obtuse to not pay attention to it.

Obtuse, or perhaps just determined. Possibly both. Then again, this was the Foul Team.

Two hours after the plane carrying Maeve and Ray had left Finland, an alert popped up on Caltrop's screen. "She's online again!" he chirped, and glanced up to see that the office was empty. "Hello? Where did everyone go?"

"We-ell," drawled the AI from across the room. "Juliet is currently travelling to Barcelona, Sass and Dodo left to go replace the water cooler, and I think Holly and Artemis took their argument outside. I am still here, though, because I am a nameless artificial intelligence with no method of independent movement. Are you sure 'Caltrop' is out of the question?"

"No!" Caltrop blurted. "I mean, yes, it is. Out of the question, I mean."

The AI's lights flared green. "Dude. No need to get snippy."

Rather than answer, Caltrop looked down again at his computer screen. The surveillance technology allowed him to pull up a view of Maeve's screen so he could watch her online actions in real time. The very first site she navigated to was the Slenderman forum she had frequented - or rather, where the forum would have been had the AI not scrubbed it from the internet an hour ago. Next, she checked several Slenderman blogs only to find that they had disappeared as well. Web searches predictably revealed nothing.

Caltrop watched all this, nervously playing with his gill tube and glancing up repeatedly to the door in the hopes that someone would return soon enough to tell him what to do.

Finally, Maeve opened a tab to one of her social media accounts and submitted a post.

_slendywho tweeted:_

_Just me, or are all the Slenderman websites down at once?_

Again, Caltrop fidgeted, glancing up to the door and then to the AI. There was no one who could help him with this decision. "Well," he muttered to himself, "I _am_ head intern."

Across the room, the AI's lights blinked hopefully. "What's that, dude?"

Caltrop was too busy typing to answer. It took only a minute to create an account on the social media site. Another two minutes were spent deliberating over how to reply. Finally, biting his lip, Caltrop reread his message and clicked send.

_fishibusiness tweeted to slendywho:_

_I don't see anything either. Bizarre, isn't it?_

He sat back, tapping his fingers anxiously against the desk as he waited. On the screen, Maeve was cycling through the deleted Slenderman sites again, until finally she pulled open the twitter tab to read Caltrop's message.

_slendywho tweeted to fishibusiness:_

_Weird! Any idea what's going on?_

Any idea? Caltrop shot a glare across the room to the oblivious AI.

_fishibusiness tweeted to slendywho:_

_well I've got a friend whose slender blog just went down. I'll check with them maybe?_

_slendywho tweeted to fishibusiness:_

_YES please do!_

Satisfied that his initiative was leading to promising results, Caltrop pushed his chair back. Taking his time, he left the office to find a cup of sim-coffee. When he returned, Maeve was reading a new blog post about the sudden disappearance of Slenderman information.

_fishibusiness tweeted to slendywho:_

_Friend has no idea why her blog went down. It's not the host site - rumours of a virus attacking only Slenderman info._

_slendywho tweeted to fishibusiness:_

_Yeah, so I've heard. Any other ideas?_

_fishibusiness tweeted to slendywho:_

_Friend knows someone trying to trace the virus. I'll let you know if they find anything!_

_raimooo tweeted to fishibusiness and slendywho:_

_Hey guys! Talking about Slendy? XD_

_slendywho tweeted to raimooo:_

_NO. NOT WITH YOU._

_\- slendywho has blocked raimooo -_

-x-

"Hey, that wasn't called for!" said Ray over her shoulder, kicking the back of her chair.

Maeve closed her eyes and reached for her headphones. Three hours to go.

-x-

The flight from Helsinki to Barcelona would have been long even under ordinary circumstances. With Ray in close proximity, years seemed to pass. It turned out that the Finnish boy didn't sleep on planes, nor did he stop talking. The brief moments of relief occurred only when Ray would disappear to the bathroom, returning all too soon with some subtle change in his appearance.

Once, after a three-minute pause of silence, Maeve turned in her seat to check whether Ray had finally fallen asleep; instead, she discovered that he'd switched to a wig of long, black hair and applied feminine eyelashes. Maeve could only stare at him in disbelief.

Ray misinterpreted her expression. "Oo, are we going to talk about Slenderman now?" he trilled.

Maeve just shook her head.

The moment they landed and disembarked, however, a now-blond Ray collapsed in a row of chairs near the baggage claim and instantly fell asleep. Maeve found herself staring down at him, debating the pros and cons of leaving him behind. _It's not like I agreed to have him tag along,_ she thought. Yet he was so small and defenseless on the bench that she couldn't quite bring herself to move away.

_Fine,_ she decided at last, dropping her bag on the seat next to him. _I'll wait. He'd probably catch up to me anyway, and I'd never see him coming._

-x-

_slendywho tweeted to fishibusiness:_

_Just landed. Any new updates?_

_fishibusiness tweeted to slendywho:_

_Can't believe you're actually in Barcelona! Um, managed to trace IP address of the comp where the Slendy virus originated from_

_fishibusiness tweeted to slendywho:_

_And I located where the comp's currently at! I'll DM you the coordinates. And guess which city?_

_slendywho tweeted to fishibusiness:_

_No. No way. Barcelona? REALLY?_

_fishibusiness tweeted to slendywho:_

_Some coincidence, huh?_

_slendywho tweeted to fishibusiness:_

_More than that, for sure. But we'll get to the bottom of this! Nicely done, btw. You are AMAZING._

_fishibusiness tweeted to slendywho:_

_Just let me know how it all turns out, okay?_

-x-

The next time Maeve turned around, Ray had aged a decade.

"Okay, seriously, how are you doing that?" she hissed.

This time, the boy's grin was more relaxed and mature, as befitting his new character. "It's all about the lines," he explained, waving a hand over his face.

"Really?"

"No - but if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"Ray."

"Actually kill you. Gotta protect my trade secrets."

" _Ray."_

He spread out his arms and protested, "Sarcasm!"

-x-

"Say, Arty dude. I was just thinking -"

"Run through the possible outcomes before voicing your request," Artemis interrupted immediately.

The AI's lights dimmed. "I just thought I'd ask," he said sulkily.

Half-hidden behind her computer, Holly coughed in disbelief. "Do you ever give anyone else a choice, Fowl?"

"Do you really want a second 'Artemis' in this office?"

-x-

From his position on the roof of the Casa Milà, Ray had a perfect view of Maeve and her contact as they spoke on the street. He wore one half a set of earpieces that he'd snagged from one of the convention security booths before leaving the hall, leaning against the roof's edge as he listened to the conversation below. He was happy he'd taken the extra few moments to properly secure his wig, as the rooftop breeze threatened to set the synthetic hair askew. Somehow, when he'd pictured Barcelona, he'd imagined something warmer - from his vantage point, it was just cold enough that he was grateful for his gloves.

Ray always wore gloves. It wasn't something he could fully explain, beyond the fact that he just liked them. It was nice to have some kind of calling card, a trait that he could take with him through each of his disguises. And besides, it was much easier to not get caught in any of his various misdemeanours if he knew he wouldn't be leaving fingerprints behind him. _Stalking, though! That's a new one. I don't think I've ever been caught - erm, accused of - stalking somebody before._

Now, both his hands were wrapped around a pair of binoculars. They were nothing special - also stolen from a security booth at the convention, as a matter of fact - but they allowed him to get a decent view of the outdoor cafe patio. Not quite enough resolution to read lips, of course, but he figured that was what the earpiece was for.

"I just want to know," Maeve was saying, "Did you have anything to do with the Slendy Virus?"

"Hang on." The contact paused to study her. "You're a friend of Ralph's?"

"Ralph?" Maeve repeated.

-x-

Belowground, Caltrop sat up straight in indignation. _"Ralph?"_

Artemis winced. "Chlorella's twitter username is fishibusiness."

-x-

"Fishibusiness," Juliet repeated, closing the laptop that sat on the table before her.

Maeve nodded eagerly. "So you talked to him! Look, I just want to know why you did it. And how. That must be some code to crash every Slenderman-related site at once!"

"Yeah," Juliet said slowly. She rubbed the back of her neck. "Um, about that. It was an accident?"

"That makes even less sense."

-x-

"You spend your free time writing code," Artemis coached, "And you got hacked. Someone set your code off before you had a chance to refine it."

-x-

"My friends dared me to write the code. And then my ex decided to set it loose as a parting gift. He works at a TECHNIO digital center, and apparently had access to enough processing power to make it as destructive as it was."

"Your ex," Maeve repeated. "Why would your friends even dare you to write that kind of code?"

Juliet rubbed her chin. "Because I accidentally made Slender-Man to begin with? They were freaked out by how creepy it ended up being, and then we blinked and it was _everywhere._ I think they just wanted to know I could kill it if it got too annoying." She paused. "Look, it was a long summer and we were bored. Just took a simple algorithm and used it to determine the distortions to use on each image. Looking back at it, it came out a lot more impressive than it actually was."

-x-

"You'll send her a copy of the code," instructed Artemis. "I'm writing it as we speak."

-x-

"I won't explain it in detail - there's a ton of math involved. But I can send you a copy if you want."

The offer didn't even need consideration. "A copy? Math? Yes, please do!"

-x-

Ray watched as the two women parted ways, finally straightening to tuck his binoculars back inside his bag. As he turned to leave the rooftop, something caught his eye. The Finnish boy narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to get a better look.

There. A rooftop mosaic, depicting a pale figure in a suit stepping out of thin air. Ray paused. Something in the back of his brain was humming, and he examined the surrounding tiles closely for more clues. _There!_ Not too far away, a second mosaic - almost an extension of the first - showed an unfamiliar lizardlike creature. It, too, seemed to be slipping through a crack in the universe.

_Oh, that's interesting. Maybe mathy, too. We'll see._

A moment later Raimo Eskola was descending in the lift, his camera phone tucked snugly once more inside his pocket.

-x-

It was near the end of the workday by the time Sass and Dodo returned. The centaur swished her tail proudly. "We're back!" she announced triumphantly. "Did we miss anything?"

Dodo waddled across the room with Sass keeping pace behind her. The dwarf's short arms barely reached all the way around the tank of the new water cooler, but she didn't trust the centaur to carry their prize without dropping it. "I'm sorry it took so long. We had to visit nearly every office supply store in the city," she said. "Clerks kept recognizing Sass and kicking us out."

"But you're glad you took me along anyways because I got us one stellar deal on this baby!" The centaur patted the top of the new cooler with a hearty sort of fondness, and Dodo's knees almost buckled. "Here, let me help you!" she finally offered, two feet away from the stand.

Caltrop set down his tablet, drifting to that side of the room to watch with bated breath as the two interns attached the water cooler to the main supply. One moment passed, and then another.

When no imminent disaster surfaced after half a minute, the three of them sighed in unison.

"That's the end of that!" Sass exclaimed, brushing her hands off against each other.

"Thankfully," said Dodo.

That was when Foaly 2.0 turned itself back on. "Hey, buddies? Come over here a second?"

"We can hear you just fine," pointed out Dodo. The AI sighed.

"Look, dudes, it's polite to look in somebody's face when you're talking to them. I don't have a face, per say, but I'm still a unique and individual type of - well, individual dude!" AI's console light turned a bright shade of blue. "And I was reading through human myths and folklore and stories, and man, I think I found a name. Well, a cool individual dude's name. I mean, the whole sun thing didn't work out too great for him, but we're underground so I figure it's gotta be a safe bet, right? So from now on, fellow interns, please call me 'Icarus!'"

Caltrop, to his credit, responded with a smile that may have been entirely genuine. "Good job, buddy! You - you thought for yourself, and I think we can all agree that we'll get used to your new name. Welcome to Foul Team, Icky!"

"Wait, what?" The console light turned a suspicious shade of green. "What did you just call me?"

"Icky...?" repeated the water sprite cautiously, reaching to touch the side of his gill tube in a preemptive attempt to ensure the bubble valves remained clear in case an argument broke out.

"Icky!" exclaimed Sass with infinitely more enthusiasm, tossing her purple hair in victory. "You've got a nickname now!"

The console light froze. "But I don't want to be 'Icky'!"

"Too bad!" The centaur flashed a grim smile. "That's the thing about names - once you've got one, you're stuck with it. If I have to walk around with 'Pihassas' written on the top of every single form I ever sign, you can deal with 'Icky.'"

"You never do any of the paperwork, Sass," noted Dodo primly. "Icarus always does your paperwork."

"And it has to sign the paperwork with 'Pihassas,' which is a terrible excuse for a name. Get over yourself, Icky!" Sass folded her arms across her chest, her front hoof tapping the carpeted floor lightly.

"I'll - dudes, I don't even know what I'll do, but Foaly or Fowl or somebody will fix this and you're going to be sorry that you -"

"One of those people has a name that's every bit as bad as yours, and the other one still wears tin foil hats every now and then. I think you're out of luck there, _dude_."

-x-

Maeve and Ray parted ways outside of the security gate in Helsinki Airport. Ray had changed his appearance once more before passing through customs, now sporting sandy blonde hair and a dark green pair of gloves. "This is what I look like in my passport picture," he explained. "Usually I try to push it a little bit, but it's been a long few days. Time for us to split up, huh?"

Maeve sighed, shaking his hand all the same. "I'd like to say it's been nice having the company, Ray, but..."

"I'm glad we met, too!" There was a sincerity in his voice that, despite herself, made Maeve quirk half a smile.

"By the way, I've unblocked you on Twitter. If you ever decide to start stalking me again, could you maybe warn me first?"

Ray shook his head vehemently. "Hey, I already explained that I wasn't stalking you. I just wanted to find out what you were up to so I followed you around without telling you about it, that's all."

"Ray. _You just defined stalking_."

"Huh." His eyes widened in horror. "You know, I didn't actually think about it, but you're right. Wow. That's a bit creepy. I guess I should maybe apologize?"

"Yeah," said the girl flatly. "You should."

"Maeve Connors, I extend my most sincere apology for stalking you," said the Finnish boy with an earnest nod. "It will not happen again, and if it does, my disguise will be so good that you'll never know about it!"

" _Ray!"_ exclaimed Maeve sharply.

Ray raised one gloved hand in self-defense. "I was being sarcastic!" he said, and gave a mock salute. "Keep in touch!"

"I will." Shaking her head in dismay, Maeve turned away from him and reached into her bag for her tablet. _May as well get one last tweet out before I catch a taxi out of here. I bet fishibusiness would like to know how this situation resolved itself._

Instead of the expected smooth edge of her tablet, Maeve's hand closed around something soft. Brow furrowed, she pulled out from her bag a pair of fingerless gloves. They were knit from thick turquoise, tan, red, and purple wool, and perfectly matched her costume scarf. She was unexpectedly touched by the gesture but by the time the girl turned to thank her new friend for the parting gift, he had already blended away into the crowd.

-x-

Busy tapping at his phone, Artemis hardly bothered to glance up when the landlord barrelled into the apartment lift. Nor did he raise his head as the lift continued upward, despite the gnome's nervous fidgeting. When the doors opened again, Artemis stepped out first and pretended not to notice that he was being followed as he strode down the hall.

Only as he paused before the door to Holly's apartment did the gnome, still halfway down the hall, call gruffly, "Oi! You. Mud Boy!"

Artemis sighed before turning. "Hello, Jenner."

"Hmph." The gnome waddled down the hallway to meet him, stopping to jab at Artemis's chest much as Holly had that morning. "I heard something through the grapevine today, human. I heard that you have two days left before you have to submit your signed residency permit if you want to continue living here. _And_ I heard that the elf in charge of signing that form doesn't want to sign that form."

Artemis regarded him blandly. "Interesting, the rumours you can hear without leaving your apartment."

The gnome flushed red. "Look here, Mud Boy. I want you out of my apartment, you hear? No way is that elf signing your paperwork."

"I very much doubt 'that elf' is going to consider your input," Artemis commented.

Jenner went so far as to stamp his foot, straining his neck to glare up at the human. Deliberately, he pushed past the boy and down the remainder of the hall to pound loudly on the last door on the left. "Open up, Short!" he bellowed. "You better be in there. I have an issue I need to -"

The door swung open. Holly stood in the opening, hands on her hips and an eyebrow quirked in a manner she'd learned from the best. Her fingers drummed on the barrel of her neutrino that was still strapped to her waist. "Jenner."

The gnome visibly gulped. "Short," he barked, making up for his sudden apprehension by further raising the volume of his voice. "I just came to - that is - no way are you signing that form."

"And what form is that?" Holly asked, her tone level and deceptively reasonable.

Buoyed by the prospect of an ally, Jenner straightened his shoulders and lowered his voice slightly. "The form - the residency - oh, show her the form."

Both Holly and Jenner turned to Artemis, who already had his phone out and was pulling up the form as they spoke. He slid his fingers across the screen to enlarge the page before passing the device to Holly.

"That one," Jenner said decisively. "Don't sign that one."

Holly brought her eyes back to him. In that moment, the gnome realized rather suddenly that he had severely miscalculated the situation. He could only watch helplessly as Holly slid the stylus from its holder and, without breaking her eye contact with the landlord, scribbled her name across the dotted line.

"I - I can have you evicted, you know," the landlord declared half-heartedly.

Artemis ignored him. "By the way, Holly," he said as he accepted his phone back, "I installed a frequency jammer a few months back. Kept neglecting to mention that to you. It's probably nothing more than a case of paranoia but I thought it would be better to safeguard against any potential eavesdroppers."

Holly was still watching the fuming landlord. "You don't say. Good thing I'm not kicking you out, then."

"Indeed."

The moment the door closed, Holly turned her gaze onto Artemis. "You do realize that it is illegal for a landlord to spy on his tenants, and that if you were aware of this you should have done something about it, right?"

Artemis was slightly insulted. "Of course. And I _did_ do something about it. For the entire building, as a matter of fact."

Holly resolved not to ask.

"By the way," Artemis continued. He was frowning slightly, the only outward sign of his unease. "I can't quite believe that I am saying this, but you were right. I apologize for my presumption: it is your apartment, and your decision. If you didn't actually want to sign the form, I haven't sent it in yet. You can still retract your signature. Although I'm afraid I won't be able to relocate immediately; I will be up the remainder of the night reverse-engineering this code to send to Maeve. It has to be mathematically sound without giving away too much."

Surprised at the offer, Holly briefly considered it before admitting, "That's fine. You can move into the guest room in the morning. It's only used for storage anyway. You clear it out, it's yours." She added, "And maybe next time, you'll think to apologize and admit I'm right just a little bit sooner."

Artemis's brief confusion gave way as he visibly brightened. "Excellent. Do these new benefits extend to shelf space in the front room?"

"Don't push your luck, Mud Boy. And if I ever find you've messed with my digital library again, I _will_ kill you."

-x-

"No, go left!" hissed Caltrop in the dark, his eyes wide with panic. Sass shook her head, leaning in close over his shoulder, her face green in the illumination from the computer screen.

"No, we've already been left!" she whispered in return, clicking frantically as though she could make the ground shift faster beneath their virtual feet. "How many more bits of paper do we need to grab before that - that THING stops chasing us?"

"Three!" wailed Caltrop, swinging the flashlight to the forest ahead. "Wait - glub - there's one on the side of that building! C-can't this thing run any faster?"

It turned out that not all copies of the Slenderman computer game had been deleted for good - the version of it saved to Sass's computer had remained. Now, the dim light of the virtual late-night city just barely illuminated the Foul Team offices as the two interns huddled together over a computer screen. Sharing an interface, hearts pounding, they hissed constantly at one another as though attempting to evade a real-life threat.

"It's behind us!" gasped Caltrop.

"Keep running," said Sass, trying her best to be brave. She clicked desperately for the object tacked to the side of a building; on the screen, the woods went dark.

The music stopped.

The beat of silence that followed was punctured, after a moment, by a magnificent Lucia _SCREECH_.

"AAAAAH - glurk!" Caltrop screamed until his tubes clogged, dropping down beneath the desk. "Sass, that's not - not - not funny!" he stuttered, tilting his head to peer up at the centaur through widened eyes.

Much to his horror, Sass's face was also twisted in alarm.

"I didn't do it!"

"You WHAT?"

"Oh, d'arvit - she's back!" said Sass, her voice low with awe.

Apparently Lucia had finally tired of terrorizing Police Plaza and had gone off in search of her owner. One did not need a Changeling's IQ to know that this was not going to be a happy reunion.

Caltrop squeaked, and Sass reached for the nearest blunt object (a lamp that she hoped Caltrop was not actually using for anything). She raised it threateningly as the angry yellow bird wheeled around the corner towards them. For a second the canary flared its wings outwards to cut the momentum from the turn, braking as one more caw broke loose from its beak. And then Lucia bore down upon them. The water sprite cowered behind Sass, sprawled on his stomach as he frantically attempted to adjust his gill tubes. The centaur reared up on her hind legs for battle, steel in her eyes.

"Caw caw, mother -"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the time of this posting, Homestuck has been on hiatus for 40 days. We're starting to go a bit loopy. Can you tell?
> 
> By the by, the game that Sass and Caltrop are playing is called "Slender: The Eight Pages" and you can find it through an internet search! -Freud
> 
> All credit goes to Freud for braving the Slenderman parts of the internet in the name of research. -Winged
> 
> Seriously, guys. I had nightmares. So. Many. Nightmares. -Freud
> 
> -x-
> 
> Too Much Slendy; Didn't Read:
> 
> The team responds to a crisis when a new Changeling, a Finnish girl named Maeve Connors, spends her spare time cosplaying and using memes to mathematically quantify the time-space continuum. They head her off in Barcelona, revealing LEPfoul's new operating procedures: Do not engage the Changelings. Just give them some of answers they're looking for, so they stop looking at anything we don't want them to see.
> 
> Unbeknownst to LEPfoul, a second Changeling - Raimo Eskola, a kooky chameleon with a penchant for friendly stalking - uncovers the Gaudi mosaic on the roof of the Casa Milá that shows Artemis in the middle of travelling through time. While Maeve goes home satisfied to have gotten to the bottom of things, Ray stores this information away for later.
> 
> Foaly's artificial intelligence has an identity crisis upon the realization that it has no name of its own. After some serious soul-searching, it finally chooses the name Icarus (immediately shortened to Icky!) and begins to identify itself as an individual. And thus, the singularity occurs without fanfare - or, indeed, anyone at all taking notice.
> 
> Throughout this all, Artemis and Holly have domestic problems when the still-sharing-an-apartment issue comes to a head. It ends with an apology from Artemis and the offer from Holly to move off the couch and into the guest bedroom.
> 
> Last but not least, Caltrop and Sass decide to stay late in the office to play through the last remaining copy of a Slenderman-based game. That's where they are when a screech announces the return of everyone's favourite canary.
> 
> And that's what you missed on - glub - Foul Team!


	11. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webisode 2.02.5: Some problems are harder than others to solve.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I swear - whatever happened to her, I didn't do it! I have no idea who you're talking about - you've got the wrong guy!"

Once more Becquerel Jones shoved the photograph back across the table, his index finger leaving a smudge on the glossy surface. It was a school portrait of a fourteen year-old girl, her head tilted, shoulders relaxed. She gave the camera a wide smile, and barrettes held her hair back from her face. Becquerel Jones had stopped looking at the picture hours ago. They said that it had been several weeks since the girl had gone missing. They said that she'd left a note the night she disappeared. They said that it mentioned him by name.

He'd never seen her before in his life.

"Becquerel, please calm down. You're not being accused of anything - we just want to know what happened to Demia Carter, and any information you can give us will help."

That morning, he had been pulled from his lab for questioning. Apparently they'd turned up at his high school first and, upon not finding him there, had searched his family's primary residence before finally turning up at their old home (the one he had used as a base of operations for the last several years, after his folks had needed to move to a place that allowed more mobility for Liz). At first, two international law enforcement agents had sat on the other side of the table; now, several hours later, it seemed like the entire local precinct had started to take the interrogation in shifts. Early afternoon sun cut across the tabletop, across the picture of the missing girl; it was sweltering in the small room, despite the fan on the corner of the table that occasionally wafted his sweat-slicked hair back from his face.

The woman studying Becquerel now was the third officer to deal with him, and she looked as exhausted as the teenager felt. Throughout their talk, her hands remained wrapped around a styrofoam cup of coffee that wafted a faintly rancid smell into the air. Too much sugar and artificial cream. Hands perfectly still, her face occasionally shifting, giving him no other physiological cues to work with. No way to tell what he should say to make this entire situation go away.

Bec felt like he was going to be sick.

"You can't keep holding me here! I don't know anything, and unless you're charging me with something, you have to let me go! I - I should at least get a phone call, shouldn't I? I want my phone call!" He lifted his chin, folding his arms across his chest, trying to hide the shaking in his voice.

"We've been over this already. You've been placed at several crime scenes in the past two years, Jones." Her brow furrowed. "Looking at your file, we've got several cases of breaking and entering, one count of minor theft, and multiple vandalism charges. And that's not even touching the accusations of stock market fraud. The records just aren't in your favour."

"Hey, the fraud charges - those were years ago and they were totally dropped anyways, and I'm not a killer! Look, I'm - I'm not even from the same country as her, I don't know how you think -"

"No, I don't think you're a killer, you're right. But that girl has a family, and anything you can tell us will help us get her back to them." She settled back in her chair, and took a slow swig of her coffee. "That's all we want - to find that girl and get her back home."

"You're not listening to me! _I don't know her!_ I never forget a face, okay? It's a gift, I never forget people, never forget anything, and I have no idea who that girl is! I wish I could help you, but I can't!"

Silence, for a moment, following his outburst.

Before either individual could speak again, the door opened to admit a young woman. It took Bec several moments to realize that she could not have been much older than he was. Dressed neatly in a skirt and blouse, her curly blonde hair pulled up in a bun and a file folder clutched against her chest, her heels clicked smartly against the floor as she strode across the room.

The officer half rose from her chair in protest. "This is a private room," she stated, and then added uncertainly, "The school tours don't cover this part of the building."

"I'm here to speak with Becquerel Jones, actually," the woman announced, her voice fluid with a European accent - French, though in his dazed state it was difficult for Bec to place the exact region. Her hand extended, a white business card held between two fingers that the officer stared at blankly before realizing she was supposed to take it. The young woman's fingernails were manicured a careful, flawless pink - clearly, she was somebody who knew the benefit of a strong first impression. "I represent his legal counsel."

"Sorry, Miss..." The officer glanced down at the card, "Pardiso?"

"Paradizo," she corrected, withdrawing her hand once more. "And if you'll excuse us, I need a moment with my client."

After the police officer had shuffled dazedly through the doorway, Miss Paradizo crossed the room to stand opposite Becquerel, lifting the officer's abandoned cup of coffee from the table as she passed. Without looking up, she dropped it in the garbage; still half-full of liquid, it rattled against the metal as the styrofoam cup landed right-side-up in the trash can. Not breaking stride, she flipped open her folder and removed the top sheet of paper, setting it down on the surface of the table in front of him. "This is what you are going to do," she told him, finger tapping the page. "Four steps to get you out of here."

Becquerel squinted skeptically at the page before looking up at the young woman again. "You're not old enough to represent legal counsel. How do I -"

She huffed melodramatically. "I said I represent your legal counsel. I lied. I _am_ your legal counsel. Here. I know you've had a long day so I've made it as simple as possible. First, you say this." She jabbed at the first line of text and then slowly moved her finger down to the next row, continuing to talk as she prodded each object on the page. "Second, you ask for this. Third, you cite this segment of the criminal code." The woman looked up at him and grinned. "Fourth, you shut up and give your most angelic smile. Say nothing else. Not a word. Got it?"

Bec stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded. She sighed, resigned.

"Your silence is good, but that smile could use work. Now, have you got it?"

"But who are you?"

"That's not what I asked."

"Fine. Yes, I understand." He did not need to reread the sheet, sliding it back across the table. The woman nodded, tucking it back inside her folder as she stood.

"Excellent. I'll see you outside."

-x-

Twenty minutes later, Miss Paradizo was waiting for him on the front steps of the police station. She stood facing the street, folder still clutched tight in her arms. He rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly before stumbling down the last three steps to her side.

She checked her watch. "Well done. I was expecting to wait at least another fifteen minutes. You were holding out on me with that angelic smile of yours."

Bec scowled as if to contradict her words. "And you are still not old enough to be a lawyer. I don't like being lied to. Look, if it turns out I shouldn't be wrapped up in this, or that somebody on the food chain somewhere goofed up and you're trying to cover their backs, fine. I get it. I'll walk away. But all I want is to know what's going on, because you are definitely not old enough to be a lawyer!" It was no longer a question.

"I'm not old enough to be a lawyer, and you're not old enough to possess a combined doctorate in nuclear and engineering physics. Yet, somehow, here we are. Everyone has their own talents; there are simply some individuals who have more than others. For example, you build things. I repair them." She glanced at him wryly. "If it makes you feel better, I'm not a lawyer. Technically, I'm a psychiatrist."

She stepped down to the sidewalk and began walking briskly to the right. Bec hesitated a moment before striding to keep up. "Then why are you here?"

"Because I have terribly needy friends. Any other questions?"

Becquerel paused to collect his thoughts, staring down blankly at the concrete. "The girl, the one who went missing. What - what actually happened to her?"

Miss Paradizo went still. "There's nothing you can do for her, Becquerel. Go home to your family. I'm sorry this happened. The police pulled in the wrong person. You won't be bothered again."

"She's dead, isn't she?"

The woman simply sighed. "Go home, Becquerel." She gave him a tight smile before turning to continue her walk up the path.

Becquerel continued to trail after her, his voice hard. "The police said that she mentioned me by name in her letter. I have a very unusual name."

"It was a mistake, that's all. Go home to your family," she said again.

Becquerel stopped. The woman's heels clicked on the pavement as she drew away several steps. As he watched, she brought a cellphone to her ear. "It's done and he's out. You owe me - again." And before there would be time for anyone to respond on the other end, she snapped the phone shut.

When she walked away this time, Becquerel did not follow her. Instead, he sat down heavily on the curb, resting his head in his hands for a moment.

_It's over now. Just breathe._

-x-

That should have been the end of the matter.

He'd misplaced his cell phone a month ago, and so he couldn't call anybody to come pick him up. When he'd finally regained the composure to stand, Bec had no choice but to hike the four blocks to the nearest light rail station. Walking outside, breathing in the fresh air (or, breathing in air that was as fresh as air ever got in downtown Denver), he took the opportunity to consider exactly what to do next. Part of him wanted to go after the strange woman, and determine who and what she was. If that girl, Demia Carter, was out there and in danger, didn't he owe it to her to try and do something about it?

The phone call, though: that was calculated. Bec knew it. Miss Paradizo would have never let him overhear it unless she wanted him to know exactly how dangerous this situation was. _Well, if she was trying to intimidate me, it worked_. He prodded the guard rail with the toe of his sneaker, considering.

Foresight had never been one of Becquerel's strengths. The first time he'd submitted his doctoral research project before a committee, he'd entirely forgotten to calibrate it for the change in altitude between Denver and Stanford. As a result, the poor device had gotten confused and nearly exploded - only a rapid adjustment to his compiler had managed to avert blanketing half of Silicon Valley with low-level gamma radiation. More impressed by the quick fix than by the device itself, the committee had awarded him his degree.

So it was that, when the next homebound train finally arrived, he took it. There were clearly factors at play here that he could not anticipate, and he highly doubted any of them could be manipulated by a few cut wires and cleverly-placed lines of code. A moment of fumbling around in his pockets led him to realize that he'd managed to leave his transit pass at the police station. Rather than return to get it, Bec kept his fingers crossed the entire way home that nobody would actually pull him aside to check.

His parents had both been frantic, cornering him in the kitchen for questioning. He'd done his best to shrug off their concern, mumbling something about a legal fund for wrongfully-arrested minors and an unfortunate case of mistaken identity. "It's over," he'd assured his mother before changing the topic, once more, to his sister's health.

-x-

Three minutes past midnight, he gave up on sleep and cracked open his bedroom window. Before proceeding any further in his escape attempt, Bec paused to listen, making sure it was safe. He could hear his father snoring down the hall, and his sister's stereo playing quietly through the house despite the blankets she shoved under her door to muffle the music. Other than those two sounds, all was quiet.

_Great, time to go. It's been a long day - I need to tinker with something. Maybe then I'll be able to sleep._

He leaned halfway out the window, twisting upwards to grip the eaves of the roof, pulling himself all the way out of his room. Hanging by his fingertips, he shut the window behind him by pressing with his knees against the glass pane and angling his body to slide it shut with a soft click. He knew from experience that if it were left open, somebody could notice the draft.

That taken care of, Becquerel let go of the eaves and dropped to the lawn below. Wringing his hands together to work out the pins and needles, Bec paused to take one last look at his family's home. All the windows were closed, and all the rooms were dark. It was peaceful.

Unbidden, he thought once more of Demia Carter. He wondered if her parents were asleep at this very moment, or if they were awake and trying to find their only daughter. _New Brunswick, so three hours ahead of us. There's not much you can do at three in the morning, but I don't think they'd be resting._

Shaking his head as he set off at a loping pace across the front lawn, Bec tried once more to remind himself that this was not his problem to solve.

-x-

The parcel was waiting on the front step of his lab, sitting beneath two pieces of junk mail. Bec groaned, cursing the postman who consistently forgot to use the mailbox in the way it was intended.

The parcel, shoddily wrapped in brown paper and lacking a return address, bore no postmark. His name was printed in blocky capital letters along one edge of the package. It was a small and relatively flat box, stiff cardstock to protect its contents. _Likely a disc of some sort_ , Becquerel surmised as he stooped to pick it up, leaving the junk mail where it lay on the doorstep. He had to use the lockpicks he kept under the front mat to jimmy his lab's door open - ever since one of his projects had exploded a few months back, the mechanism always jammed shut in humid weather. For some reason, he'd never gotten around to replacing it. Nor had he bothered to duplicate his keys. It didn't matter much, as it only took him a few minutes to pry his way inside even with the parcel tucked under one arm.

_Hope none of the neighbors are watching, because this would be hard to explain to the police. And that's the last thing I need._

_Again._

It was odd, how quickly he'd stopped thinking of this place as his old home and began viewing it only as a place to keep his work.

Bec took the steps to the landing two at a time, ripping the brown paper away from the cardstock to free an unmarked disc from the package. _Maybe one of my forum friends burned me a mixtape?_ Becquerel paused on the threshold, spinning the disc for a moment between his thumb and forefinger. The grooves on the side of the disc caught the soft green and blue lights emanating from his lab, power lights and motion sensors reflecting back a multitude of colours.

His laptop was kept in a drawer underneath one of his benches. At one point he'd installed a safe in the corner to keep it safe, but the lock there had recently started to jam. After spending one particularly nerve wracking afternoon trying to free his laptop from the metal box, he'd stopped trusting the safe, deciding it was much safer to hide the device in plain sight. It was nestled now beside his dart gun, and he gingerly moved the tranquilizer out of the way as he lifted his laptop to set it on the bench.

After isolating his critical system files (just in case his friends weren't as cautious as they should be with their antivirus programs), Bec popped the disc into the player, and waited a moment for it to load.

-x-

The first time he watched the video, he had no idea what he was seeing.

-x-

_[After a moment of static, an image loads. The camera must be mounted in the cockpit of some vehicle, as the room in the video is half airplane and half commuter train. It hums a little, and though it has no windows it must be moving very fast. Smooth edges, soft lines, white lighting, grainy webcam image. I am there, seated before the camera, head tilted back; behind me, two strangers. No, not strangers - one of them is the girl from the photograph, tulle skirt and rainboots, her hands fluttering as she talks, her face earnest, expressive. And the other -_

_\- I don't know who the other person is. Not much older than me, pale eyes, formal clothes, dark hair, stiff posture. Somebody off camera talks in a language I do not understand, and the stranger responds in kind. Harsh words. It escalates. I jump out of my chair._

" _Technically, he's our hostage, so you negotiate with Miss Carter and myself, not Artemis!"_

_More words, and then we are falling. Somebody - is that me? did I make that sound? - screams. The stranger's face, close to the camera. He speaks quickly, calmly. English, this time._

" _Call you back."_

_The screen goes dark.]_

-x-

The second time he watched the video, Becquerel Jones remembered everything.

-x-

The third time he watched the video, Bec paused it in the moment before the shuttle began to crash. He reached forward with one fingertip, as though he could reach through the screen and touch the past.

_Demia._

How could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten her?

-x-

After the fourth watch of the tape, Becquerel Jones knew exactly what he was going to do. He booted the disc from his laptop without bothering to properly eject it from the system. First thing in the morning, he'd destroy both laptop and disc. _Can't leave a trail for the LEP._

Demia was dead. He knew that for sure - he raised a hand to his cheek, touching the place where she had kissed him goodbye.

Demia was dead. There was nothing to be done about that.

He'd forgotten. They'd made him forget. His head hurt.

Demia was dead, and he knew exactly who was to blame.

-x-

He worked through the shock of fresh memories, through a numbness coated with the threat of thick emotion. Fingers flying across his keyboard, he pulled up web browser windows; frantically, he dug through old folders and notebooks for any trace of useful information. It was frustrating work, as very little had survived the fairy's sweep of the lab. For most of it, he was starting from memory; other tasks had to be begun from scratch.

Only once did he pause, looking up over the lid of his laptop with unfocused eyes. Dawn's first light was spilling through the skylight, illuminating wires and circuit boards in a jumble on the workbench. For the first time in his life, the disorder troubled him. He saw again in his mind's eye the mess of torn-apart systems in a torn-apart shuttle - _panels hanging on loose hinges, bent latches jutting out at odd angles, pink rainboots treading on wires, one last terrified yelp as the shuttle wall ripped open, a blinding flare of blue light, the taste of bile in his throat -_

He shut his eyes tight, blocking the stale fear with a sea of black. When he looked down at the keyboard again, his hands were no longer shaking.

The next time somebody panicked, it was not going to be him.

-x-

_[I looked down at my hands for just a moment, one thumb tracing over the other to hide the fact that both were trembling. When I returned to watching Artemis, my voice came out hollow. "We're not on a first-name basis, Fowl. We are not friends."]_

-x-

**OUTBOX** :

Hello,

I've been following your blog for the last year or so, and I hope it's okay that I dug up your email address because I didn't want to post this as a public comment. The thing is, I think you may be onto something with the energy signature disturbances around your family's home, and I think this might be bigger than either of us know! Even if your older brother doesn't believe you about them, I definitely do.

Here: I've attached a bunch of satellite readings (please don't ask how I got my hands on them, since it's a very long and slightly illegal story!) for you to go through. They've been scrubbed from the official records, but they present a weird pattern, don't they? Do you think it could be related to what you're working on?

This could be seriously important, and I don't think I can get to the bottom of it alone! I'm looking forward to hearing back from you!

-Henri

-x-

**INBOX:**

Henri;

I think you could be right - these satellite numbers are pretty weird! Are you sure they're for real? They do confirm a bunch of my suspicions. I didn't really blog about it because it's kind of embarrassing, but I think my brother might've buried an entire cable line just to get me to stop poking around. I think he thinks I'm wasting my time, but you know what? Just between you and me, he's wrong, for once. There _is_ something here.

I can feel it.

If you still want to help me find out what it is, that's okay. I've attached the readings I've taken around our home, and all the data does seem consistent. What's going on here? I hope we can figure it out! :)

Your friend,

Myles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winged and I have been working on the next episode, but since we're both in the middle of yet another round of papers and finals, we decided another webisode was in order. Oh, and kudos to everybody who suspected we weren't quite done with Bec yet! - Freud


	12. Tweedious Tidings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 2.03: In which Christmas is ruined, the worst-case scenario game is played, and Tweedir finally makes a friend.

**An excerpt from The Self-Published Memoirs of Professor Honkard D. Tweedir**

By this stage in my career, I was already an accomplished professor. I held prestigious degrees in several magical disciplines and had twice been presented awards for my studies into the _Serinus canaria._ Other fairies tend to retreat into their studies upon reaching such a high standing in the academic community; I, on the other hand, viewed it as my solemn duty to impart my wisdom upon the younger generation. Thus it was that, despite the fact that I had been awarded a sabbatical to concentrate upon my research, I did not entirely relinquish my role as a tenured instructor at Haven University.

The class was small for the large lecture hall, the students scattered amongst the chairs like sand pipers upon a prairie field. On this particular day in question, I was concluding a lecture on magical resonance when a most intriguing visitor stepped into my classroom. Roughly twice the height of the average fairy, with hair like a raven and the eyes of a white ibis, this was the infamous Artemis Fowl the Second. I had been given the untold pleasure of working with this human as library liaison since his appointment as LEPfoul consultant several months before, but this marked the first occasion I had seen him outside the confines of his offices.

I swelled with pride the instant he walked into my classroom yet, always the professional, I did not stop my lecture. As well — yes, I will admit — I was curious to learn what Artemis Fowl would make of my lecture material.

"And this is why you're not allowed to have birds in Haven," Fowl cut in at last. "Proximity to magic dampens their self-preservation instincts. As I'm sure your professor was _going to eventually tell you_ , nobody knows why."

I was astonished. After listening to only a few minutes of my lecture, he had correctly interpreted the ultimate goal of it. "Well, I've already discussed many common theories and I was going to go over them once more to ensure maximum student retention. In addition, I had planned to fully explicate the interesting Canary Islands thought experiment — I'm sure we all know the one."

Fowl waved a hand airily, feigning disinterest. "It's not an interesting thought experiment. It's a simplistic thought experiment. And I believe your lecture was supposed to have concluded ten minutes ago."

He waited as my students hastily gathered together their belongings and departed from the hall. The buzz of young life absorbing knowledge has always spoken to me, endearing me to my students; I smiled hearteningly at each one as they passed. They were all too intimidated by my academic prowess to meet my eyes. Alas, one must try!

"I came in person because you were ignoring my emails," Fowl began once the door had swung shut behind the last student.

I clutched at my chest, insulted. My usual verbosity failed me. "Never!"

Fowl hastily backtracked. I could see the guilt in his eyes for even making such a suggestion. "And yet you continue to send me long emails even after I've told you that for the next week, I will not have access to technology."

Ah yes — I recalled to mind that barbarous human holiday that had been stolen and warped from its original fairy origins. "I would have assumed you would be above such things."

"Turns out I'm not," the human deftly replied. "Stop emailing me."

My dear friend, Doctor J. Argon, had once written a book about this particular Mud Man and often took great pleasure in bragging about this fact. Now, as Artemis Fowl the Second strode purposefully from the lecture hall, I had to use all my restraint to not send a message to Argon this very minute. Artemis Fowl had been in my classroom — had listened to my lecture — and had comprehended the lecture objective faster than any of my ordinary students. What a fast learner! What a fascinating character! Argon would be so very jealous.

—X—

**INBOX:**

Mud Boy,

Hey, remember when I told you not to do a thing and then you did it anyways and now there are consequences for your actions?

… Because word on the street is that you had to physically go and find Tweedir to tell him to actually stop emailing you for a week. And yet, I distinctly recall shooting you a couple of emails warning you against working with him. Funny coincidence, isn't it?

Cheerfully gloating,

Foaly

**OUTBOX:**

Foaly;

And here I thought we'd moved past getting excited over every single coincidence.

\- A

**INBOX:**

Even better, you actually DO have access to your phone over Christmas! Ha! Call me when you need to take out a restraining order!

Foaly

—X—

Artemis rolled his eyes and slid his phone back into his pocket. "What was that, Beckett?"

His younger brother huffed impatiently. " _I said,_ you seem to make that face a lot when you're working."

"And what makes you presume I am working? There are a number of other people with whom I correspond."

Beckett raised his eyebrow skeptically. Myles, standing on a chair to better peer over Artemis's shoulder, explained, "Because you were using that other alphabet again. And muttering in your code-language about centaurs. You know if you're a spy, you can just tell us, right? I mean, we've figured most of it out already anyway. It explains everything! For instance, it's why you're not around a lot, and why you always wear suits, because that's what spies do. And it -"

"What does _centaur_ actually mean?" interrupted Beckett, fidgeting a little in his determination to cut right to the truth. "The code word, I mean. We know what centaurs are, and that they're not real so you can't actually be talking to one."

That was the moment Artemis realized that at some point, his brothers had actually succeeded in translating Gnommish to the point that they could understand which word meant "centaur." They hadn't just determined the contextual gist of the word; they'd actually decoded the roots of the symbol to which the word corresponded. The fact that they assumed he was using the Gnommish alphabet to communicate in a second layer of code was both reassuring and frightening. On one hand, they still remained in the dark about the existence of the People; on the other, he could no longer rely on the confidentiality of his communications belowground. "Fine. You caught me. _Centaur_ means that it's your turn to make the rounds."

He reached to propel Beckett towards the door, but the boy slipped out of reach just as Myles threw his weight against Artemis's shoulder. Artemis staggered and Myles hung on, arms wrapped around his brother's neck. His phone buzzed once more in his pocket. Artemis threw out a hand against the wall to catch himself. As though for good measure, the phone vibrated again.

"Enough, Foaly," he hissed, attempting to twist and deposit his brother back on the ground.

In his ear, Myles asked, "Is Foaly another code name?"

Artemis felt another hand against his side and realized that Beckett was making a grab for the phone in his pocket. "No —" he gasped, and attempted to swat the arm away. In doing so, he finally lost his balance. All three brothers landed in a heap.

Artemis sprang back to his feet faster than either twin had thought possible. After touching his pocket lightly to ensure his phone remained safe, he glared. It was the kind of look that sent interns scurrying for cover on an almost daily basis; Beckett and Myles just groaned in unison, knowing the game was up. "We'll both make the rounds," Myles volunteered sheepishly, taking Beckett's arm and turning to scurry from the room. After digging in his heels for a brief instant, Beckett gave in and followed.

Artemis breathed a sigh of relief as the glass door clicked shut behind them.

"You did several things wrong in that encounter," said an amused voice near the open window. "It shouldn't have taken you that long to shake them. Do you want to see the video playback? I can put it in slow motion, if you need. And loop it."

So much for relief. Artemis clenched his jaw. "Hello, Holly. The Ritual went well?"

"You know, I used to be able to go a decade at a shot without refilling my tank. Now it's every six months." The elf paused thoughtfully. "And somehow, this entire trip feels like it's been worth it."

"I'm sure it was the highlight of your night."

"Don't flatter yourself, Mud Boy. I got to go stargazing earlier. Anyways, just thought I'd check in before heading back belowground. Make sure you hadn't started any potentially world-ending crises in the last twelve hours."

Artemis made a point of checking the clock on his phone. "Eleven hours."

Holly winced. "Still an hour to go? Shall I just wait here until I hear the sirens?"

Artemis turned back towards the glass pane that looked out on the ballroom. "It's my mother's annual Christmas charity function. Whatever disaster is waiting to swoop down upon us, I'm sure it knows better than to interrupt." He stepped aside to allow Holly a full view of the room beyond the door. Guests in formal wear mingled together as waiters wove amongst them with trays of appetizers and champagne. The strains of classical music floated over the conversations, provided by a live string quartet in an alcove just off the main room.

"Angeline does know how to throw a party," admitted Holly, even though the lavishness of the entire affair left a faintly sour taste in her mouth.

"The twins are not fond of formality," Artemis admitted. "Myles came up with a rotation system to prevent them from both having to be inside the ballroom at all times, and I agreed to help them test it."

"You, not fond of mingling?" Her voice was thick with sarcasm. "I wouldn't have suspected."

"If you're implying that the inevitable gossip over my conduct for the past decade is something I'd prefer to avoid, you would be correct," said Artemis dryly, touching his phone once more. "People do tend to talk, and I'd rather —"

"Who are you talking to?" interrupted a small voice by the door. Artemis shut his mouth abruptly, turning away from Holly to address Myles, who had managed to slip away from Beckett's side in an attempt to talk to his older brother alone.

"My invisible friend," he replied immediately.

"But you don't look like you're wearing an earpiece."

"Of course I don't. A good spy never looks like they're wearing an earpiece."

Myles beamed. "But seriously, who were you talking to? Because I know you're not actually a spy. Well, Beckett thinks you're a spy, but he's seen too many movies. I think he just likes to imagine you trying to run away from explosions."

From the window came the sound of a muffled snort. On second thought, Artemis thought it might have been a sob. Either way, it was not appreciated.

The youngest Fowl pressed on. "This has something to do with the buried pipe, right? Well, not with the pipe itself, but with the weird energy readings around it. Although the fact that you buried a pipe in the first place does say a lot about exactly how little you think of my ability to reason things out, it doesn't actually explain the readings. You've never lied to me about anything before, and encouraged me in every other experiment I've run. What makes this one different?"

Artemis's thought process in the ensuing silence was rapid and impossible to fully transcribe, yet the moments after Myles' calculated guilt trip could accurately be summed up as follows:

1) _D'arvit_.

2) I have _not_ encouraged him in every experiment. I shut down the blowtorch incident last week, and put my foot down regarding his unfortunate scorpion obsession the week before that.

3) Myles has no way of knowing how much he's been lied to. That's the entire point of lying.

4) Neither of these would be helpful to point out right now.

5) _D'arvit!_

Then he realized that the profanities were not his own thoughts. Rather, Holly was swearing in the earpiece that he really was wearing. Due to the fact that her helmet had been sealed the entire time to prevent anyone else at the function from hearing her, it really was like he had a second voice in his head.

6) I would make an excellent spy.

7) That's also not very helpful right now.

8) _D'ARVIT! Artemis, DO something about your brother! He's a younger version of you and MAYBE not evil yet, so fix this NOW before it escalates!_

Artemis studied his younger brother closely, deliberating.

9) Holly is correct. This cannot escalate. Yet if I give my brother another story, it will only be a matter of time before he disproves it. And next time, he won't come to me for the truth. Lying is only effective if the other party believes you are honest. Again, that's the entire point of lying.

10) _D'arvit_.

Artemis opened his mouth to speak, and then hesitated. Frowning, he made a show of tapping the side of his leg four times. On the other end of the line came a heavy sigh, one last swear, and then two reluctant taps in return.

—X—

It was not often that I made the arduous trek from the University of Haven campus grounds to the Foul Team offices across the city. On this particular day, however, I felt it necessary. After all, Artemis Fowl the Second had taken the time to visit me personally in order to explain that he would be absent from his duties as the head of LEPfoul for the week. While he had made the journey under pretence of explaining his lack of technology, I read between the lines — so to speak — to understand the unspoken request for me to keep an eye on his interns while he was away.

From the instant I stepped across the threshold, it was clear to me that the office had fallen to shambles the instant the interns lost their leader. The employees were milling about without aim while various alert sounds went more or less unheeded. Barely had I entered the room when the projector on the far wall went up in a cloud of smoke. The entire room ducked low save for the female centaur with crimson hair who reared upon her hind legs. "Mine!" she declared boldly, and lobbed a small capsule into the heart of the flames. A geyser sprayed out across the office, drenching anything within range.

"Sass!" whined a nasal voice. I turned in search of the source. There, in the corner of the office, I spotted him: a young watersprite out of place in the land of the air-breathers. A literal fish out of water, the poor soul was encumbered by a set of bulky, bubbling gill tubes that hung about his neck like an odd sort of pipe-organ. Being a considerate gnome, I was careful not to allow my gaze to rest long on the suffering watersprite's obvious affliction. "Why'd you use one of those ones? Dodo ordered in the foamy fireshells last week, and now the neighbours - glub! - are going to be mad at us for raining on them again."

"They'll get over it," said the centaur with a proud toss of her mane. "Besides, I bet they'd be even angrier if we didn't put the fire out."

The entire room stilled for a moment, lost in contemplation over the consequences of allowing such a blaze to go untamed.

"New rule," suggested a timid dwarfess as she finally rose from behind a counter, "Whoever uses the water fireshells cleans up the mess?"

I decided that this would be an appropriate time to make my presence known. "An excellent suggestion," I said approvingly, "Although it raises the question of whether or not this would slow emergency response time. I presume these explosions are a common occurrence in this office?"

As one, the interns turned towards me. "Who's that?" asked the dwarfess.

The moment they became aware of my presence, both the centaur and the watersprite groaned in relief.

—X—

"Artemis isn't here," Sass said immediately. "So you can leave now."

"Yeah," added Caltrop. "Y-you can definitely leave."

Dodo looked between the two of them in surprise. "Please tell me he's not another intern." She secretly doubted her ability to make the pompous-looking gnome quit.

"Worse," muttered Caltrop. "He's another _consultant._ Where's — glub — Lucia when we need her?"

Tweedir appeared oblivious to their irritation. "It has come to my attention that you are without a leader in this office for the next week and have come to offer my services so that you might —"

"Hey now," interrupted Sass. "Holly's just gone for the day. She'll be back tomorrow."

Tweedir straightened his tie. "Artemis Fowl the Second came to me directly," he said, puffing with his own self-importance. "Now, tell me: What is it you do around here again?"

The interns collectively rolled their eyes, made the simultaneous decision to ignore him, and turned back to their tasks without another word.

—X—

Holly paused on the windowsill, looking over her shoulder once more at the Fowl brothers. Artemis had his back to her so she could not read his expression, but the tension in his posture was clear enough. Myles waited patiently, probably recognizing that his older brother had resigned himself to an explanation.

"You have to understand, Myles —" began Artemis, and Holly finally took her cue to leave.

She didn't go far, though. Activating her wings, Holly rose along the side of the building to find a perch on the roof. The sky was still bright with stars and she tipped her head back to admire them even as her mind was racing. She'd turned off her comm the instant she left the room — whatever Artemis intended to say to his brother, it was clear that she would be much better-off avoiding liability for it.

And then the sound of sirens brought her back to Earth. Holly straightened as, in her ear, the line crackled back to life.

"There's no chance that's an ambulance I hear outside, is there?" said Artemis. It wasn't actually a question.

Holly rose to her feet and pulled the switch on her wings, rising above the roof to see the approaching vehicles. "Definitely police. What did you do?"

There was a pause as Artemis considered the possibilities. Holly was not reassured. Finally, he said, "Nothing comes to mind. …No, Myles, something more important just came up. Can you wait, please? We'll finish this conversation later."

From Holly's viewpoint, she could see the officers striding towards the house. "Your family does associate with a lot of criminals. Could they be here for one of your guests?"

"Considering my luck?" responded Artemis. "Unless proven otherwise, we'll have to presume that —" He cut off then, and Holly heard him apologize to someone nearby as he moved past them. As the officers had disappeared into the manor by this point, there was nothing else for Holly to watch from above. She lowered the throttle on her wings and dropped down once again. At the same time, she was putting a call out on a second line.

Foaly picked up so quickly, his hand must have been hovering over the button. "I know where you are and I was just about to call. What happened and how long do we have until the world explodes?"

"Relax, it's probably a misunderstanding," Holly said, even though she barely believed this herself.

The screen on her visor flicked on to show a copy of the arrest warrant.

"Oh," sighed Holly. "Oh no."

—X—

"What do you mean he's been arrested?" Dodo asked in confusion.

On the other end of the video call, Foaly threw his hands up in dismay. "I mean I am staring at a police car video feed right now. He's been put in the back of the car and everything. What has your department done recently that might have been viewed as illegal? I'm not judging you, per say, but any excuse to pull him in for questioning would have done it."

"No, you don't g-get it," glubbed Caltrop, folding his arms indignantly across his chest. "We're very, very careful to not be traced." If LEPfoul had been in full communication with the main body of the LEP, Caltrop would likely have pointed out that if they were able to evade the detection of the Changelings with whom they crossed paths, there was no way a local precinct would have caught any of their trails. Instead, he just scowled.

"Yeah, dude. I seriously can't see anything from our end that woulda caused this one. Whatever's going down is _so_ not on us!"

"Wait," said Foaly, growing still. "In the background - am I hearing _me?"_

Into the view of the frame slid Icky. His radio-shaped console box had been mounted on a series of rails that ran around the office's ceiling, allowing him free movement between workstations. "Hey dude! I've missed seeing you around, bro!"

"Why are you _there?"_ Foaly asked in horror. Then something else sank in. "Wait - _they gave you a track?"_ His eyes flickered, landing on Dodo. _"You gave him a track!?"_

"He asked politely, and we're going to load his box up with firefighting foam caps so -" Dodo began, before Foaly cut her off.

"I've said no to a track for years! When did this happen! Did you just move over there today? Sass!"

"Dude, of course not!" Icky protested, insulted. "I've been here for ages. This is my home. My second home. I copied myself onto a new harddrive, dude, so I could still hang out with you back at your place. Never know what you might need a babysitter on short notice, right? Let me tell you, they need a babysitter over here all right. Have you met some of these interns? Duuuuuude. Oh - and by the way, I totally chose my own name! You can call me Icarus!"

" _You chose a -!? Sass!"_

"You said Uncle Foaly gave you permission to come over here!" protested Sass, turning to Icky with a stomp of her foot. "You lied!"

"My AI is capable of lying?" said Foaly, flabbergasted. A moment later, the implications of this sank in and he slumped in his chair, wiping a tear of pride from his eye. "I built an AI that's chosen a name, and is capable of lying."

"They grow up so fast," muttered Sass, casting Icarus a dirty look.

—X—

Interpol agent Warren Freyne had, admittedly, not been assigned to the Fowl case for very long. It was a file with a reputation that preceded it; despite recent years of inactivity, it was notorious for causing a high burn-out rate amongst the hapless agents set in charge of it. Some even whispered that it was cursed. Either way, association with the case generally did not bode well for a young, tenacious agent's future career prospects.

Of course, as he determinedly chewed through a piece of the stringiest turkey he had ever had the misfortune of crossing paths with, the distant future was the farthest thing possible from Warren's mind. All he cared about was getting through this holiday meal - and the accompanying social interaction - intact.

All that changed the moment his phone went off. Freyne glanced down at the screen, praying for anything that would help him avoid another story regarding his mother-in-law's bunions. Yet, even in his desperation, it took a moment for the contents of the alert to sink in. Fingers trembling, he slid his phone back into his pocket and adjusted his tie. He looked around the table with wide eyes before a wild smile spread across his face.

"Warren?" asked his mother-in-law. "What are you smiling about over there?"

"Definitely _not_ your corns," he proclaimed. He slammed both hands against the table, his thumb catching the rim of his plate to send an avalanche of gravy and mashed potatoes cascading into his mother-in-law's lap. "You are a _horrible_ shrew of a woman, and I am leaving! Hold. My. Calls!"

"Warren!" exclaimed his horrified wife.

"I'm going to Ireland!" he shouted, already halfway to the door. "Somebody FINALLY brought in the Fowl kid. Petty theft, if you'd believe it! There _is_ a god! Merry Christmas to me!"

—X—

When Holly finally caught up to Artemis, he was waiting in one of the local jail's intake cells. His peaceful manner was at odds with the rest of the inmates, who had worked themselves up into a frenzy. The guards in the hall were nervously clutching their weapons, prepared to react should the situation result in a riot.

Holly dropped down on the bench beside him and tapped his arm four times to let him know she was there. Artemis slid his hand to the right to tap twice in response.

"Every now and then, I remember why people keep trying to kill you," Holly said, regarding the scene unfolding before them. "At least there aren't any goblins spitting fire yet."

"Yet?"

"It's my job to think of the worst case scenarios. Not to mention, worst case scenarios are an occupational hazard since I met you."

Artemis's mouth twitched and he nodded toward an air conditioning unit on the far wall. "If the goblins were smart, they would aim there."

"But they're not. They're goblins."

"Which means there is still a high chance of a fireball hitting an air vent by accident. The holding cell has been fireproofed but the air ducts lead towards parts of the building that are not. It'd take an unlucky ricochet, but we are talking worst-case scenarios, so let us assume the fireball makes it through the vent. The fire alarm would go off, prompting an evacuation. By that time, the south-west hallway would already be impassible, forcing a detour through the west courtyard of the building."

Holly winced. "Harder to keep order in an open space."

"Especially with goblins around. It'd be chaos."

She paused to consider the implications. "It sounds like you're planning a breakout," said Holly suspiciously.

"I have no need to _plan_ one," Artemis responded seriously, raising an eyebrow as though insulted that she would even imply that he would need to put more than thirty seconds of forethought into the matter. "But the evidence against me is all circumstantial. As it stands, I can't be formally charged. So long as I play by the book, they cannot hold me for anything."

Holly studied his face before concluding that he was not actually planning anything else. "So why the riot?"

"I thought we might want to talk without notice. Clearly I was correct."

"So you started a riot?"

"I only said three words the entire time I've been here," he protested.

Holly narrowed her eyes. "Which words?"

He told her. Holly was less than impressed. "Think about what you've done," she sighed.

"Oh, believe me, I have. I've also considered what I have not done, which brings me back to the reason I'm here. I assume your presence here means you have found some new lead into why someone would choose to frame me for something as petty as -" His face twisted scornfully, "Home robbery."

Rather than respond, Holly grabbed Artemis's shoulder and threw him to the ground — a motion that would have looked suspicious had anyone been watching. Luckily, everyone was busy paying attention to the fact that the air conditioning unit had just been pried from the wall by a team of three particularly determined inmates. Artemis looked back over his shoulder at the section of the bench where he had been sitting a moment before. The spot was now occupied with the smashed remains of the unit.

"A home without anything worth stealing, that is," he added after a moment's thought as guards finally began to involve themselves in the situation inside the holding cell. "Otherwise the motivations might be more clear."

Holly made a sound of agreement. "We think someone's trying to get you out of the way — who or why, we don't know yet. The Butlers are back at the manor keeping an eye on the systems should anyone attempt to hack in through the security. The interns are attempting to trace the origin of the evidence against you."

A loud whistle pierced the air. Both Holly and Artemis winced.

"And you came here," observed Artemis. "Thank you."

Holly brushed it off. "Of course, even that is not the worst case scenario. Guess what would be waiting in the west courtyard of the police station?"

"Giant squid? Trolls? Crickets?"

"Worse. Lucia."

—X—

The hapless interns were huddled in a knot, confiding with each other in hushed tones when I reentered the room. I caught strains of the vicious gossip the instant I drew near — accusations of illegal activities and scandal. What could possibly be of such importance that these employees should deem it necessary to deviate from their regular work routines? Very little, I believed. Doubtless, I told myself, these interns were merely wasting time under the excuse that their supervisor was still aboveground under pretence of completing the Ritual even as Artemis Fowl the Second was out of the office.

"What are we discussing?" I inquired helpfully as I drew near to the group. The interns looked up, craning their necks towards me in unison like a flamboyance of startled flamingoes.

"Nothing," proclaimed the water-sprite, visibly struggling to make his voice heard amidst the monstrous tubes that encircled his face.

"Absolutely nothing," agreed the dwarfess, nervously looking about the room as though frightened of the repercussions that might befall her were she to admit to a wrongdoing.

Overhead, there came the sound of whirring rotors and mechanical machinery. When I raised my head, it was to see a miniature silver box slide towards me along a track that had been set in the ceiling. Green lights flickered in a show of excitement. A thrill of my own tickled my spine for this - _this_ was the artificial intelligence I had heard so much about. "Dudes," exclaimed a voice that I recognized as the particular strains associated with the Lower Elements Police's well-known centaur technologist, yet with a hint of artificiality. "I've been crunching the numbers and running double checks through all our stuff. Like, when we were talking to Foaly earlier we were totally winging it and covering each other's backs and that was great — but there's actually _no way_ Fowl was arrested because of something we did. So we're totally in the clear! …Also totally in the dark on this one."

The water-sprite heaved a dejected sigh, as though this latest misfortune was too much for his already traumatic existence to bear. "Well, you tried. Thanks, Icky!"

I bristled with indignation for the insulting name the intern had bestowed upon this brilliant machine. Yet the artificial intelligence merely carried on along its track, oblivious to the great injustice that had befallen it — ah, to bear an artificial heart impervious to the whims and slanders of the cruel world and those that inhabit it!

Yet, more momentous matters cried piteously for my attention. "Artemis Fowl the Second has been arrested?" Oh, horror beyond all previously known horrors! What trouble had befallen Foul Team's courageous and brilliant leader to lead him to enemy ground?

It was at that time that another centaur trotted boldly into the room. "It's _raining_ on our _ceiling_ ," he declared loudly. "Again." This must have been the much-reviled head of the advertising agency that continued to reside in the office suite one floor below our very feet.

The Foul Team's own centaur placed her hands upon her hips. "Well, we're in the middle of something that's _actually_ important. Sorry for your ceiling. _Dude._ " Yet something told me she felt nothing akin to remorse.

"Oh yes," responded the stranger angrily. "I heard something about that. Artemis Fowl in jail? About time."

And then the fiery equine addressed the head of the advertising company, declaring in a strong voice, "I bet you he's innocent." A hush fell upon the room, my own breath arrested by the shock of this development. "I bet you a canary he's innocent."

She glared about the room as though daring any one of us to disagree. The silence hung heavy. Then, with a deep breath, the head of advertisement threw his fist down upon the table. He said, in a voice hard and cold as ice, "Centaur, one of our pixies brought a hamster to work this morning. You're on."

Within minutes, a friendly rivalry had been turned into a harsh and divisive war. Sass, suddenly our brave and defiant leader against all the odds, flipped her hair in a carefully dismissive motion. "Come on," she told us briefly eyes scanning the advertising agency's office with scorn. "Let's roll." And though we had nowhere to go, we turned as one away from the intruder and returned to the task at hand.

"Sass," said the dwarfess with an anxious glance over her shoulder, "You just bet our canary. That's a terrible idea. That's the worst idea I've ever heard!"

The poor dear must have suffered from a weakness of the constitution, for the current drama seemed to be tearing her apart. I reached out and pressed my hand upon her shoulder in comfort. "My dear, all will be well. I promise you now that I shall remain on these premises until this matter is resolved. You will not endure this trial alone."

"Actually, I've got to go," said the dwarf, sidestepping my outstretched arm. With no further ceremony she scurried from the room, like a mother hen attempting to find a more secluded place in which to mourn her fallen kin.

—X—

Artemis raised an eyebrow when he saw who walked into the interrogation room. "And here I was hoping my Interpol file had gone dormant."

The agent paused, still in the process of pulling his badge from his jacket pocket. "Well, it did for six months. We're kind of curious about that." He frowned. "Wait, did someone tell you I was coming? Because I didn't even know I was coming here until about three hours ago."

Artemis merely folded his hands upon the table. "No, nobody told me. Welcome, Agent Freyne."

The man blinked, obviously reassessing the pale young man on the other side of the table. Even though Artemis clearly already knew both his name and credentials, he slid the badge across the table for inspection anyways. Fowl ignored it.

Freyne finally took a seat, leaning forward in an attempt at friendly conversation. "This is a first for me. Our organization is usually a little more careful with our identities."

"Well, you know a lot about me. I thought we should be on equal footing."

"I've been on this case less than a year!"

Artemis smirked. "Don't exaggerate. You've been on this case for three and a half months, though I suppose some slight congratulations are in order as you've already outlasted your predecessor by seventeen days. Do you have the time?"

"Pardon?"

Just like that, his grin disappeared. "The time."

"Oh." Freyne raised his wrist reluctantly to examine his watch. "Eighteen minutes past midnight."

"Accounting for time zones, you have now outlasted your predecessor by seventeen days, five hours, and thirty-two minutes." He tilted his head to the side, judging. "Well, I suppose you must be giving it your best effort." Artemis raised his eyebrow and gave Freyne a pointed look, as though suggesting Freyne had been slacking on the case.

The agent bristled. "I was hoping this didn't have to be hostile and we could just talk. You and I both know you haven't been charged with anything. This isn't an interrogation, just a chat."

Artemis looked pointedly about the interrogation room of the police station and then spread his hands wide. "Chat away."

Despite all that he had been warned, the Interpol agent was still taken a little off-guard. "Just like that?"

"Agent Freyne, I am sure you have been over every element of my files with the finest-toothed comb you can muster. As a result, you must have concluded by now that I have nothing to hide," said Artemis, the smirk returning once more to his face. "Unless you think you failed to do a thorough enough job?"

"Fine. Let's start with something easy. How did you restore your family's fortune?"

"I kidnapped a leprechaun."

"Er - where did you go when you disappeared for three years?"

"I decided to step outside the timestream for a bit."

"Um. What about those six months right after the Techno-Crash. Where were you then?"

"Oh. I died, decided I didn't like it, and came back again."

Warren Freyne set both hands down upon the table, palms open and fingers spread. He slowly slid his chair back across the tiled floor, stood stiffly, and turned away. He paced the room once to compose himself, took a deep breath, and then sat down at the table once more.

Artemis was still smirking. "Going to try this again, are we? Take all the time you need. Seventeen days, five hours, and thirty-five minutes. I'm sure you're proud of yourself."

—X—

I noticed the water-sprite had returned to his desk, anxiously inputting variables into the system as his unfortunate breathing apparatus clunked away. I approached him immediately to offer what empathy I could. "Brave sprite, I applaud your efforts."

The water-sprite twisted about in his chair, frowning. Perhaps he was unused to such sympathy. "S-sorry?"

"No, my boy — don't apologize for your affliction! Your courage in the face of such crippling adversity is truly inspiring. I cannot imagine what toll it would take upon my psyche to live each day one clogged tube away from suffocation."

"Thanks for reminding me that I could — glub — die at any minute," he responded, failing to make eye contact. "Y'know, I'm, uh, gonna see where Dodo got to." And without another word, the poor soul was gone.

—X—

Freyne had been on the Fowl case for seventeen days, eight hours, and fifty-five minutes when he finally left the room to fetch a coffee. Funnily enough, he did not offer Artemis anything.

No sooner had he left the room than Artemis let his head drop, massaging his forehead with his fingertips in order to shield his face from the cameras. "Freyne is more determined than I expected," he whispered. "Since I'm not going to be allowed to leave until he decides he's done, it might be time for Plan B."

"Tired?" Holly smirked from her vantage point in the room behind the one-way mirror. "I thought you said you had nothing to hide. But really, you played by the book for longer than I expected."

"Plan B, Holly," he repeated tiredly.

"Fine," she said, already in the progress of calling in reinforcements. "By the way, I'm starting to see why you've forced so many psychiatrists into retirement. Freyne might not recover from this one."

Artemis sighed. "If I were trying to break him, believe me: you'd know."

—X—

No sooner had Freyne set his coffee upon the table than the door to the room opened to reveal a young woman dressed in evening wear and clutching a clipboard. Heels clicking as she entered the room without invitation, she strode straight towards the table, picked up the coffee, and threw it into the trash.

"Hey," protested Freyne. "I just got that."

"So get another. I need to speak to my client." She flicked out a business card. "Minerva Paradizo. I'm his legal council."

The agent examined the words on the card in confusion. "You're too young to be licensed."

"Oh? Tell that to my law degree." She tapped one toe impatiently and made a dismissive hand wave. Freyne made a motion towards the trash as though hoping to retrieve his coffee before he reluctantly allowed himself to be shooed from the room.

The door clicked shut and Minerva lowered herself into the chair opposite Artemis. "You look awful."

"Law degree?" he asked in response.

"After the situation in Denver, I decided to set aside a weekend." She set the clipboard down before her. "You're welcome for that, by the way."

Artemis shrugged. "I meant to thank you at the charity function. Then I was arrested."

"Really. Because I thought you were using your brothers as an excuse to hide in an alcove."

"Well, it would be a shame to be stood up," he said pointedly.

"Are we getting into _that_ now? Because _technically_ , you stood me up for three years."

"That doesn't count," he said immediately. "It was a busy day for me."

"Yes, sometimes people have those. In any case, there are three steps to get you out of here. First, say this." She jabbed at the paper on the clipboard between them.

Artemis held up a hand. "Hold on. I don't actually need legal counsel. I just need it to appear as though I have some."

Minerva stared at him steadily for a minute and then jabbed the paper again. "Second, cite this section of the criminal code."

"Minerva."

A third jab at the paper. From between clenched teeth, she continued, "Third. Shut up and give your most angelic smile."

Artemis almost succumbed to the temptation to roll his eyes. "Thanks for the advice. I assure you, I can handle it from here."

—X—

There before me stood a strange sight: a small yet fearsome beast barring his teeth from within a metal-framed cage. It was ferocious, with eyes that glittered intelligently and fur that shone golden in the fluorescent light of the office.

"But what creature is that?" I asked, and though I regarded this beast in horror, I could not hide the awe in my voice.

"Huh?" the centaur turned her gaze upon me and shrugged effortlessly. "Oh, the hamster? Fowl's out, he was innocent. We won the bet."

—X—

"They're harmless," Sass repeated, sighing loudly. "Come down from that desk."

Tweedir refused to budge.

"No, seriously, dude," said a passing Icarus. "There's only one feral creature that's gonna attack you in this office - well, two if you count dear cousin Sass - and in either case, you'll wanna be cowering under the desk, not on top of it."

Sass rolled her eyes, already trotting to the door. Ten minutes earlier Caltrop had texted her with the name of the coffee shop where he and Dodo had spent the past few hours, and - now that the office's newest pet was secure in his cage on her desk - decided it was past time to join them.

—X—

Holly was watching the stars again when Artemis joined her on the pavement outside the precinct. The light of the sun was just beginning to brighten the horizon, the stars above fading from sight.

"That bright one is actually a planet," he said quietly.

"I know," the elf replied, turning to him. "I took a course. And you look exhausted."

He gave a tired smile. "I know you did. And Minerva said so, too."

"At this point, I actually have to ask: I'm never going to find out what happened between you two, am I? Given the hostility in that room, I wouldn't have expected her to show up to bail you out."

Artemis nearly shrugged. "Probably not, no. And it's in the past. We've just talked about it and agreed that a good grudge is too entertaining to completely let go."

—X—

The office was devoid of any presence despite my own, and I was just beginning to suspect that it would soon be time for my departure when a timid young elf poked her head into the room. Her face creased with uncertainty as she peered through the dim shadows of the unoccupied space. When her eyes alighted upon me, relief flooded her expression and she tread forward with a renewed spring to her step.

"Hello," she greeted me, attempting to juggle a bundle of what I presumed to be personalized office supplies. "This is LEPfoul, right?"

"You are correct," I told her magnanimously. "Salutations and welcome to the Foul Team."

She blushed demurely and hesitated. "Should I just - put my stuff down anywhere? Or is there a special desk for new interns?"

It had only taken me a single day to assimilate entirely into the Foul Team to the point where they trusted me implicitly to run their office. I instructed the dear elf to take possession of the desk nearest to the door. After all, with the edition of the young elf, Ms. Feldspar would no longer be the newest intern on the team and therefore, would be able to upgrade to a new desk.

She had barely placed the bundle of possessions upon the surface of the desk when a glorious trill filled the air. Just as every cup of coffee holds its own aroma, so does every bird carry its own song. This one was powerful yet distinct with a bold finish and a hint of spice. No fading or warbling here. This call belonged to a bird who knew full well the noble spirit that soared within her heart.

I raised my arm in anticipation and whistled in response. When the yellow bird wheeled about the corner, the elf flinched. I held steady and whistled once more.

"Is that _safe?_ " the elf whimpered, ducking behind her newly acquired desk. There was no time for a response. The canary was circling above me, her joyous cries echoing through the office. I whistled a third time in response and, at last, she alighted upon my arm.

"Wow," whispered the elf. "I'd heard horror stories about that bird. I guess she isn't as bad as everyone says."

I stroked the canary's feathers, admiring their pure colour. "My dear, I have spent several decades studying the _Serinus canaria._ They are a gorgeous species more in tune with the natural world and their own instincts than any other bird on the planet. One merely needs to understand them in order to properly communicate."

"I heard that bird shut down Police Plaza for three days, and she _wasn't even there._ I heard that bird took on a troll — _and lived!"_

I scratched the bird's plumage lovingly. "I believe the records say it was an entire colony of trolls."

—X—

Holly was exhausted by the time she arrived back in her apartment, as the only sleep she'd gotten in the past twenty-four hours had been the brief doze she'd caught while waiting in the shuttle port before returning belowground. Walking into the empty apartment felt strange, and she tensed for a moment before realizing that she simply was unused to returning from the shuttleport alone. Artemis, unsurprisingly, had elected to remain aboveground for the remainder of the holidays in an attempt to set the rest of his family at ease. As they had expected, somebody had attempted to access his databases while he was in the precinct — yet with the interns having fled the office, nobody had caught the alert in time to properly trace it to a source. That particular mystery, for now, would have to go unsolved.

She dropped her bag heavily on one of the kitchen chairs, and paused. There on the table, closest to the chair where she always set her bag, was a small golden gift box. Having just returned from a situation with so many loose ends, Holly was instantly suspicious. Her hand had fallen to her neutrino before she saw the note with her name written in Artemis's hand beside the box; even so, she hesitated before peering closer.

 _Holly,_ read the note, _Given the last twenty-four hours, I understand that your first instinct will be to shoot this box. Please don't. Regards, Artemis._

She flicked the safety back on and used the tip of the gun to prod the lid open.

And then the room filled with stars.

Holly's jaw dropped. She whirled about, catching sight of familiar constellations and — there, the bright planet that Artemis had pointed out just that morning. The stars were suspended in the air around her, painted across the ceiling, and draped over all four walls. The elf even thought she could see the occasional cloud drifting across the room, propelled by an imaginary atmosphere. Holly extended an arm through the nearest nebula, watching as the stars danced across her skin. Finally it occurred to her to peer back down; inside the gift box, a tiny metal device hummed happily away. It should have been physically impossible for it to emit enough light to fill the entire kitchen from its recessed vantage point — yet somehow, it did. Curious, she held a hand over the box. The kitchen immediately dimmed, though the occasional star still slipped through the cracks between her fingers.

The moment she withdrew her hand once more, the room again burst into light.

—X—

Artemis answered on the first ring. "Back home?"

"I have questions," Holly began immediately. "First off: Who did you get to break into my apartment?"

He grinned. "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why do you always assume I am planning to either break in or out of my current location?"

"Because usually you are. Do I have to worry about Mulch walking in at odd hours now?"

"No more than he did before," Artemis assured her. "How do you like the stars?"

Holly raised her head. "Technically, I'm looking at a planet right now."

From his room in Ireland, Artemis looked out the window at the evening sky. "Excellent. So am I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas episode has been in the Foul Team plan from the very start — a lot of television shows have holiday-themed episodes so we thought it would be fun to include one here. We didn't exactly plan for it to land at the beginning of July, though! Not to mention, Christmas is totally the anniversary of Artemis and Holly's first meeting. We'll leave it up to you whether the box at the end was a Christmas present, another apology, or both. - Winged
> 
> If you were at all curious, "powerful yet distinct with a bold finish and a hint of spice" is almost word-for-word the description that Starbucks uses for its holiday roast of coffee. Happy Christmas-in-July, everyone! -Freud
> 
> Oh, also: We thought it would be hilarious to showcase the interns from Tweedir's point of view. I have since discovered that I have a love-hate relationship with his voice. NEVER AGAIN, Freud. NEVER. AGAIN. - Winged
> 
> Agreed, if only for the sake of your own sanity. Winged, you still have a twitch. - Freud


	13. Do You Hear The Interns Sing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2.04: LEPfoul gets bored. The ensuing chaos involves treason, confetti cannons, and multiple table flips.

**3am**

It was the smash of breaking dishes that simultaneously woke both Holly and Artemis early that morning. They met in the hall. "D'arvit," whispered Holly, lowering the bat just enough to demonstrate that she wasn't going to hit him. "Usually that sound is you."

Artemis raised his newest laser pointer. "Sorry for not breaking things. Shall we?"

They crept down the hall, Holly in the lead as the one with the better response time. She paused upon reaching the doorway into the kitchen, checking once to be sure that Artemis was still at her side. "On the count of three?" she asked.

He nodded and lifted a hand, counting down with his fingers. _Three, two, one._ Artemis closed his fist and both sprang through the doorway with their weapons brandished.

Unimpressed, Mulch took another sip of his water. "You two are heavy sleepers. I was wondering what it would take to get your attention."

This time, Holly did not bother lowering her bat. "Mulch. _What_ are you doing here at this hour?"

The dwarf grinned cheerfully and gestured to the broken dishes that littered the floor. "Somebody's done something with your dishwasher. I can't get it open anymore."

"Get. Out."

Mulch was insulted. "Hey, after all I've done for you? I was even gonna clean up after myself."

Artemis sagged against the door. "Mulch. Leave. Now."

"Can I at least sleep on the couch? You're not using it anymore —"

"OUT."

—X—

**6am**

"One of these days, I'll make a friend who understands the meaning of boundaries and personal space," commented Holly.

She and Artemis were staring in dismay at the snoring lump on their couch. While not entirely surprised by this turn of events, this had not been expected either. After all, they had physically locked the door behind Mulch after shooing him from their apartment three hours earlier. Artemis had even used the laser pointer to fuse the lock shut behind him.

"So he's actually not coming in through the front door," said Artemis. "Odd, I thought that would be exactly like his sense of humour."

"And we've already ruled out the vent in the bathroom, as well as every single window. What's next on the list?"

Artemis glanced down at Mulch once more. "Fantastic. He might be coming in through the plumbing system."

Holly blanched. "It also raises the question of how we're going to get out of here to retrieve our intern from an - I am quoting this directly - _commuting catastrophe_."

"I'll go melt the hinges off the front door," said Artemis with a resigned sigh, slipping the laser pointer once more from his pocket.

—X—

**7am**

Whatever commuting catastrophe the intern had found herself in the midst of was still unclear when Holly and Artemis came across the first signs of the repercussions. Vehicles sat bumper-to-bumper in stand-still traffic as pedestrians crowded the sidewalks. Horns were blaring, commuters were complaining, and an abundance of swear toads were doing what swear toads do best. Of course, it was always open for debate over exactly what it was swear toads did best: uttering profanities or making new swear toads. This question was not made any easier by the fact that often, both would occur at the same time.

Artemis raised an eyebrow as they passed yet another pair of amphibians. "Honestly, I don't understand why these are still a problem after so many years. Why are they still here?"

Holly glanced back at the toad. "You get used to it. Like interns."

"Interns that swear less," Artemis noted.

"Interns, only more committed," Holly added.

"Interns, only less likely to get into trouble on the daily commute."

That was when they turned the corner. An accident involving a potato delivery truck and three bicycle messengers had blocked the roadway completely. In the middle of the chaos was their intern.

Over the past week, LEPfoul had been treated to an influx of new staff. While before, their department had been assigned a new intern roughly twice a week — only for the unfortunate fairy to quit before noon more often than not — their numbers had recently begun rising each day. Yesterday, five new interns had been found wandering through the advertising agency midway through the morning. It was as a direct result of this that they now knew that the centaur in charge of the agency was named Terrell, he had been running that agency for only two years, and he was apparently not a fan of babysitting.

All the interns save one had quit on the spot. The remaining intern, a petite sprite with a high voice, had introduced herself as Cosette when Caltrop had asked. Apparently he had realized that she'd stayed past noon, and so was likely to be a permanent addition to their staff roster.

Now Cosette was attempting to mediate the traffic dispute, and failing rather miserably. She turned in desperation, caught sight of her superiors, and swore.

Holly cracked up, and Artemis looked pointedly at the nearest swear toad. The intern paled but pushed through the crowd.

"You really do need help," Holly observed, although she couldn't quite contain a smirk.

"Don't bother," Cosette squeaked, resolute. "I quit."

—X—

**8am**

"I quit," declared Dodo loudly.

The entire room stilled. Caltrop, hovering over the coffee machine as Icky powered it up, glubbed loudly. Sass started to snicker. The elf hovering beside Dodo's former desk twisted her hair in her hands and mumbled something nobody could quite make out.

When Dodo merely folded her arms and glared across the room, Caltrop swallowed hard and started choking. "You aren't quitting," Sass said, trotting towards Caltrop to help him fix his tubes. "You told me you don't quit anything."

"Yet I have _never_ had a job where I have been treated with such disrespect," Dodo said calmly. "That is my desk, blatantly stolen and reassigned despite my superiority in this office."

The elf turned bright red and mumbled something else.

"No, dear, I'm not mad at you," Dodo reassured. " _You two, though—!"_

Sass didn't respond, already bending over Caltrop as she adjusted the alignment of his breathing tube. "Hey dudes," called Icky as he slid past the door. "Incoming!"

Eight interns rounded the corner, chattering loudly with each other. The desk terminal closest to the door chose that moment to explode, sending pieces of shrapnel flying across the room. Icky shot a pellet towards the mess and the desk disappeared in a mound of foam and steam. Several interns screamed, one fainted, and Caltrop's tube clogged again. By the time all the chaos had been sorted out, Dodo was gone.

"But she'll be back, right?" Caltrop asked nervously, scanning the room. "And does anyone see Cosette?"

Sass rolled her eyes. "Oh cute, you've got a crush. Now help me scare these interns away. It'll reduce the sting of unrequited love."

"Why _are_ we getting so many interns, anyway?" Caltrop asked as he followed her across the room. "It's gotta be a computing error, right?"

—X—

**9am**

It was a computing error, if _computer_ was synonymous with _Foaly,_ and _error_ meant _completely on purpose_. After all, LEPfoul _had_ stolen his AI — and to add insult to injury, Icky had confessed to Foaly that he much preferred his new home.

The centaur cracked his knuckles and leaned back in his chair, satisfied with a good morning's work. Not only had he sent them eight interns today, he had also already prepared the paperwork requesting the transfer of thirteen new interns to the LEPfoul offices the following day. Now, it was time to see how the current batch was doing.

When the video call picked up, he was subjected to utter chaos. One of the desks was buried in fire retardant foam, which seemed to be wiggling. Another desk had been overturned, its contents strewn across the floor. Two interns crawled past the camera, whispering anxiously with each other until they disappeared from view. An instant later, he heard two screams before they appeared again, this time running for their lives in the opposite direction. Sass trotted after them and screeched. This sound was echoed by the yellow blur circling above them all. The blur darted down, somebody cried out, and Caltrop appeared in the mess to pull the hapless intern to safety. "Come with me if you - glub - want to live!" he shouted before diving again into the fray.

"Uh, hello?" Foaly said, slightly subdued. He hadn't actually meant to kill anybody, and that intern in the corner certainly wasn't moving. Foaly crossed his fingers that the gnome was simply asleep.

An elf popped out of the foam, brushing white fluff from her hair as she leapt over another intern on her way towards the camera. She mumbled something in greeting, but Foaly couldn't quite make out what she said. "Er, is Holly there?"

The elf brightened momentarily, glanced around the room, and then shook her head sadly.

"Right. How about Fowl?"

She shook her head again and said something unintelligible. Foaly frowned, nodded in pretence of understanding what she'd just said, and continued, "What about — hang on, is that Mulch?"

It was indeed Mulch. The dwarf had chosen this morning to show up at the Foul Team offices and, unfazed by the carnage around him, had proceeded straight towards the kitchen area.

"Oh my Frond," said Foaly. "He's literally eating the fridge."

As if he'd heard Foaly through the noise of the interns, Mulch turned around. He was currently chewing on the handle of the fridge, which had broken off at some point earlier that morning. He saw Foaly's face on the screen and waved it happily. Foaly noted that half of it was already gone.

"You know what," the centaur decided, "I think I'll call back later."

The elf nodded helpfully and mumbled something again.

"What? Um, just let Holly or Artemis know I called. There's a piece of tech ready to be picked up. You got that?"

He waited until the elf nodded again. Then, doing his best to ignore the sudden guilt, Foaly hung up the call.

—X—

**10am**

When Holly and Artemis finally arrived at the office, they were greeted by a scene that could have been lifted from a nightmare. Interns were screaming as they dashed from one end of the office to the other, and multiple bird screeches rang out in the small space. Icky had been caught in a loop on his track, running back and forth in tight circles and unloading foam pellets on anything that moved. Despite this, various surfaces had still managed to catch fire. Perhaps most disturbing of all, the fridge was oozing an unnerving green sludge upon the carpet.

"We've seen worse," said Holly. She sounded uncertain.

"Yes," agreed Artemis. "It had eight tentacles." This was nowhere near as reassuring as intended.

One intern leapt towards the window as though hoping to smash through to safety. Unfortunately for him, the glass that lined the wall of the office was reinforced with a flexible sheet of interwoven synthetic fibres. The material had originally been designed to improve the durability of mechanical wings; once the production process had become sufficiently inexpensive, it had found a myriad of uses. Ironically, Foaly would never know that he had patented the very matrix that had saved that poor intern from a plummet to the streets below. Instead of smashing through the glass, the gnome bounced off the window with limbs splayed and blue sparks coalescing around a broken nose.

Artemis cringed in sympathy. Holly drew two fingers to her lips and whistled.

Nobody noticed, save for a small elf with a disarmingly familiar haircut. She lifted her head, emerging cautiously from beneath an overturned desk. The moment she saw Holly, her face lit up. She dashed forward, dodging around various obstacles before skidding to a halt in front of Holly and mumbling rapidly. The only thing that Holly could decipher of her muted monologue was a sudden, shrill exclamation: " _AndyouaretotallyHollyShooort!"_

That was the moment Artemis realized both elves had the exact same haircut. And he was willing to bet that Holly had gotten hers first.

Evidently, Holly had noticed the same thing. She watched the younger elf with an expression caught between alarm and distrust before stepping back hurriedly. "Artemis," Holly snapped, "This is your mess. Clean it up before I'm back." And she disappeared out the door.

The younger elf deflated. Artemis stared at the swinging door in dismay before turning back to her. "It isn't _my_ mess," he stated.

The elf scratched the back of her neck, mumbled something, and shrugged. Artemis thought he caught Foaly's name and tried to reply, "Yes, I'll be having a talk with him. This has gone far enough." He took one step towards his desk and stopped in his tracks as a nearly collided with him. "In person," he decided. "This is a talk that would go much better in person." And, with that decided, he fled the room as well.

—X—

**11am**

It was precisely on the hour when the sharp blast of a foghorn cut through the chaos of the Foul Team offices. As though a switch had been flicked, everyone and everything froze.

"Oh th-thank Frond," whispered Caltrop from his position behind Artemis's desk. Warily, he poked his head around the side in the hopes to get a clear view of their saviour.

Instead, all he saw were four equine legs. "Sass?" he asked in surprise, only to realize that the colouring of this centaur was much darker than the LEPfoul intern. Caltrop stood up.

"You!" shouted the new centaur, pointing an accusatory finger in the water sprite's direction. "What is the meaning of this nonsense? Don't you realize there are fairies trying to _work_ in this building?"

"M-m-me?" Caltrop glubbed, raising a hand to his chest.

"You're the only one I recognize in this mess," the centaur grunted. "Get this cleaned up. You're dripping coolant on our offices."

Now Caltrop remembered where he recognized the centaur from. This was Terrell, the head of the marketing agency one floor below. Usually, the centaur would send one of his employees to complain to LEPfoul about the noise; Terrell must have been especially incensed to take it upon himself to make the trip for the second day in a row.

That was when Sass chose to make herself known. "We don't have to listen to you," she said, trotting out from behind a large potted fern that Dodo had brought in nearly a week previous to spruce the place up.

Terrell puffed up, offended. "I'll complain to the building manager."

"And I'll tell him about your habit of borrowing office supplies from other companies."

"'Borrow' being the operative word here."

It is unclear how far the argument would have gone had Icky not chosen to swing by on his track just then. "To borrow," he said self-importantly, drawing dangerously near, "Implies an intent to return the - oops."

It seemed that the AI's looping track was not the only malfunction - if Icky's later claims that it _was_ a malfunction were to be believed. No sooner did he pass over Terrell than a pellet of fire-retardant coolant dropped from the AI's stores. It exploded over the centaur's head, coating him in the cold, rapidly expanding foam.

Across the office, Mulch stuck his head out from the fridge, grimaced at the mess, and disappeared again.

"That's _it!"_ bellowed Terrell, surging forward. Loose clumps of foam floated aimlessly into the air, while the main heap of it retained a perfect impression of a centaur's hindquarters.

"Whoa there!" Sass yelped, leaping to block Terrell's path as Icky followed the track towards the back of the office.

"Out of my way! That infernal machine is getting disabled!"

"Y-you can't disable Icky!" Caltrop protested, scrambling boldly to Sass's side.

"Can too!" Terrell roared. "Let me through!"

From the rear of the office, two other interns shouted, "Not a chance!"

If Caltrop had looked closer, he would have been mildly horrified to recognize these two as Shyrill and Ambryn, two pixies who had quit the LEPfoul internship several months before - and apparently, had been reassigned here again. As it was, he was engrossed in the unfolding drama between the two centaurs.

Terrell feinted to the left before diving towards Sass's right in an attempt to get past. Not to be outdone, she bent down and hooked her hands beneath the surface of the nearest desk, flipping it onto its side. Office supplies flew everywhere and Terrell skidded to a halt, his hooves sliding on the shiny linoleum floor. He finally managed to come to a halt inches from the tipped desk, where he jabbed a finger into Sass's face. "This is _not_ over," he declared.

She narrowed her eyes. "Bring it on."

They continued to glare at each other until Caltrop coughed uncertainly. Then, with an exaggerated huff, Terrell stormed from the room, muttering angrily under his breath. Sass waved brightly as he retreated.

"M-maybe we should clean up before he - glub - gets back?" Caltrop suggested.

Sass turned to him in disbelief. "Are you kidding? That would be admitting defeat. No, there's only one course of action here." She brushed past him impatiently and braced her hands beneath the surface of the next desk.

"And that is?" Caltrop asked, even though he was certain he did not actually want to know.

Sass brought her hands up, sending the desk crashing on its side. Artemis's paper files swirled through the air. "It's obvious," she said, eyes glistening in anticipation. "It's time to build a barricade. If he wants to get back inside our offices, he's going to have to work for it."

—X—

**12pm**

Holly had been at the shooting range for precisely an hour when Artemis showed up. It was a safe enough bet that she would be there, and he hadn't actually needed an entire hour to determine that. He'd simply decided that it would be best to let her spend some time shooting targets, to work off any stress over the encounter with their new intern, before he approached.

"Then I guess it's time to head back up to the office," Holly said, laying down her neutrino on the counter.

Artemis frowned. "That might not be a good idea."

"What? Why not?"

"The interns are building a barricade," he said, waving a dismissive hand.

" _What?_ "

"They're building a barricade," he repeated. When Holly's face did not waver, he hurriedly added an explanation. "You know full well that they're getting bored with having to remain under the radar. Ever since Christmas, our systems are compromised just enough that I don't feel comfortable trusting them. Whoever did this, they targeted me specifically, so I won't risk playing into their hands any further than strictly necessary. So, until Foaly actually responds to our requisitions request and provides us a boost to our firewalls, we can't risk drawing attention to ourselves."

The elf picked up her gun once more, returning her attention to the firing range. She did not look up until the rest of her clip was empty. "I know all that. Get to the point."

"The point is, the interns have got nothing to do. Their discontent has been building for the last week, and I expect Dodo's absence this morning was the last straw. I suggest we find somewhere else to spend our afternoon."

"Shouldn't we warn Mulch?"

They exchanged a glance.

"He did crash on my couch last night."

"He brought this on himself."

—X—

**1pm**

By the time Terrell returned with reinforcements, the interns had built a proper barricade. All the desks had been tipped onto their sides and propped up before the entrance to the office. Chairs, cabinets, and a large inflatable strawberry had been added to the makeshift wall to strengthen it. The interns - or, those that had not yet fled the office in terror - had taken up strategic positions behind their barricade, armed with broom handles and various office supplies. Caltrop had equipped himself with a stash of foam pellets. Sass had somehow managed to assemble a flag out of an old tarp, which she waved over her head while calling encouragements to her fellow revolutionaries.

"I haven't seen Cosette all day," Caltrop was saying to the quiet, mumbly elf beside him when a rumble started from down the hall. The interns collectively went silent, peering through the gaps in the barricade in anticipation. The rumble grew louder.

A hovertray floated in view of the office doorway. It was loaded with a huge set of speakers which hummed menacingly. "I don't get it," said Caltrop, starting to rise so he could see the hovertray properly over the top of the barricade. "Is that -?"

Several things happened in rapid succession.

First, a hidden switch turned on the music system attached to the speakers, flooding the entire floor with appallingly bad human pop music. Interns all along the line of defence cried out at the unexpected noise, dropping their weapons in their haste to cover their ears.

Second, a gnome popped up from his hiding place on the tray behind the speakers. With a triumphant shout, he levelled a long silver tube at the barricade and pulled the trigger. "Down!" shouted Sass, tackling Caltrop just before a cascade of metallic paper exploded from the end of the confetti cannon.

Third came the war chants of the attackers, barely audible below the bass of the human pop music. The interns barely had time to retrieve their weapons before Terrell and his army of marketers stormed the barricade.

A loud screech filled the air as the canary dove towards the attackers, who scattered before her fearsome claws. It gave the interns the time they needed to regain their wits; by the time Terrell was able to call his army to order once more, the barricade was bristling with weapons.

"For Foul Team!" shouted Sass, waving the flag over her head with one hand while jabbing through the barricade with a vacuum tube. She followed this with a screech to rival the bird's. The interns echoed her with a cacophony of screeches that less closely mimicked the canary yet had the unanticipated effect of sounding like the entrance to hell itself. The marketers fell back, and the screeching dissolved into a collective cheer.

"Pst, hey Caltrop, buddy!"

The watersprite glanced up just in time to see Icky slide past on his track. "Check your phone, duuude," called the AI, before he was too far to be heard above the din.

Caltrop scrambled to retrieve his phone from his pocket. The newest message had been sent barely a minute before from Icky, and the subject line merely read: A REVOLUTIONARY MANIFESTO.

"I have a manifesto," Caltrop called to Sass, who by this time was at the other end of the barricade and unable to hear him. The marketers were reassembling, which meant there wasn't much time. He would have to act fast.

With the silent wish that Cosette were there to see him, Caltrop leapt up onto the barricade itself, balancing on the edge of a desk. In one hand, he held his phone before him to read; the other, he cupped around his mouth. He took a deep breath, and prepared to bellow.

—X—

From his hiding place inside the hollowed-out fridge, Mulch could hear the commotion of the intern revolution.

"Will you join in our crusade?" bellowed Caltrop from atop the barricade. "Who will be strong and stand with me? Beyond this office is there a world you long to see?"

Mulch anxiously pressed redial for the seventh time. This time, finally, Holly picked up. "Mulch," she sighed.

Before she could get further, Mulch hissed into the phone, "Holly. You need to get up here _now_. The interns are revolting - I repeat, they're revolting. They're reading a manifesto, for Frond's sake!"

Down in the shooting range, Holly pressed speaker on her phone and set it down on the counter. She and Artemis listened as Caltrop continued, "Do you hear the interns shout? Shouting the song of angry dudes? It is the music of the interns who will no longer be subdued! When the beating of - " A confused pause, and then, "Wait," said Caltrop. "This isn't - are these - _song lyrics_?"

"Well," commented Artemis from the shooting range, "They're certainly not a manifesto."

—X—

**2pm**

The burn-marks on the shooting range targets were arranged neatly around the critical hit points. Artemis stepped back from his post, one eyebrow raised as he examined his results.

"Not bad," said Holly from behind him. "I think you might finally be getting the hang of that thing." She stepped forward, tilting her head slightly as she looked over the targets. When Artemis didn't respond, she nudged him with her elbow. "Took you long enough."

Given how often she had dragged him to the shooting range since they had set up their new office, her comment was certainly justified. It was mildly frustrating to Artemis, who had expected true mastery over a neutrino would be to understand angles and velocities; it turned out that an action so precise also required "a touch of intuition and a ton of practise" (as Holly had put it).

"I expect the next lesson will involve moving targets?" he asked simply.

"Good idea," said Holly innocently, as though she had not already been planning exactly that. She stepped back from the shooting lane again. "But for today, we've spent enough time down here. I have plans to meet No1 for coffee soon."

"Fair enough," said Artemis. He rotated the neutrino in his hand before holding it out to Holly.

She lifted her hands away. "Keep it."

"What?"

"You heard me. You've been hitting the targets close to the centre for days. You haven't missed once all week."

Artemis stared at her skeptically.

"Essentially, you're good enough that I wouldn't have to worry about you frying my foot in the middle of a firefight," Holly told him. "I wouldn't recommend you go and _find_ any firefights -"

"Has that ever been a difficulty?" Artemis cut in dryly.

"So you won't, then. Good."

Before Artemis could decide whether it was worth it to protest further - or whether he really wanted to - his phone chimed with a new message. He stepped toward the counter where it had been set aside and glanced at the screen.

"Let me guess," said Holly. "Mulch again?"

He shook his head. "Foaly, actually. Apparently he's peeved that no one has stopped by to pick up the replacement tech we ordered after Christmas."

"It's hard to remember to stop by when we don't actually _know it's ready_."

Artemis remembered what the one intern had mumbled in the office that morning and decided not to mention it. "I don't suppose you could -"

"Nuh-uh," said Holly forcefully. "I have a coffee date. It's your turn to go stop by Police Plaza. Besides, I thought you said you wanted to talk to Foaly about the intern situation?"

—X—

**3pm**

It wasn't until Holly arrived at the cafe that she remembered why she'd kept putting off her next coffee-date with No1. The demon perked up the moment he saw her, leaning forward over the table. He was probably wagging his stumpy tail, too, although Holly had no intention of checking.

His anticipation was so obvious that she nearly walked right back out again. Only the thought that she would be returning to an office full of rebelling interns gave her pause.

"So," he said once she'd taken a seat. "The Christmas present."

Holly huffed a sigh. "I don't know how you even found out about that."

"I'm magic!" No1 said, spreading his hands wide. At Holly's unimpressed expression, he added, "Well, it works when I use that excuse for anyone else."

"I'm not _anyone else_ , though, am I?"

He considered her words. "No, you really aren't. I actually found out about it from Mulch."

Holly kneaded her forehead. "Of course you did."

No1 wiggled in pride, took a large drink of his sim-coffee, and then looked at her expectantly. "Well -?"

"Well," repeated Holly, embarrassed, "It wasn't that big a deal. Just a hologram of the stars - but it did look amazing."

No1 stared at her skeptically.

"All right," she admitted. "It was a surprisingly thoughtful gesture, it was gorgeous, and I was touched. Especially as I have no idea how Artemis got it belowground before me while he was still at the manor. He must have had help."

"That was Mulch," No1 declared. He leaned back in his chair, took another sip, and frowned.

"What?"

"That actually sounds familiar," said No1 suspiciously. "I could swear I read that in a human romance novel."

Holly blinked. "Wait - read what?"

"I did! Just two weeks ago. Ida Leister's newest novel, _The Fume of Sighs._ I got it for Christmas!"

" _What."_

No1 carried on excitedly. "After a romantic vacation with the mysterious and enigmatic Eduardo, Lucille Blythe returns home to find a box waiting on her kitchen counter. She has no idea how he got it there, as he left before her and had to stay a day late in the Cayman Islands for business, which means he isn't back in town yet. The present contains a mosaic of the night sky - the exact constellations they could see from their private retreat in the islands. It's very romantic."

Holly nearly choked on her drink. "You're saying Artemis stole the idea from a romance novel?"

No1 wiggled again. "I was just pointing out the similarities. Besides, it was a very good scene."

"I'm going to kill him."

—X—

Caltrop was slumped against the wall in the back corner of the office, as far as he could physically get from the disaster that was the intern barricade, when the new elf who'd stolen Dodo's desk appeared before him. She mumbled something, twisting a finger through her hair.

"I'm sorry, I c-can't hear you," said Caltrop.

She sighed heavily and leaned forward to tug at his arm.

"Oh, leave me," he huffed. "I don't d-deserve it. Glub. All I wanted was to impress Cosette and - glub - now it turns out she isn't even here! I misused my p-power as head intern and made a mess of everything!"

The elf pulled at his arm again.

"If only Dodo was here," he moaned. "She'd be able to sort everything out."

Fed up with his moaning, the elf pinched at his arm.

"I don't even know why you're still here," Caltrop moaned. "You're an intern. You should have quit - glub - ages ago. You've h-had plenty of time to slip out unnoticed. N-no one would think worse of you. Least of all, glub, me."

She planted both hands on her hips and glared at him. It was oddly unnerving, as the posture felt terribly familiar - as though he'd seen it plenty of times before. He felt intimidated and couldn't quite understand why.

"Fine," he said grumpily, and rose to his feet. "What did you w-want?"

The elf led him back across the office, avoiding the barricade by slipping through the secondary door to the hall. Caltrop was too disheartened to argue, although he did pause in the doorway to bemoan abandoning his troops.

"You seem t-terribly determined to stay with our department," he observed as they walked down the hall together.

The elf nodded happily.

"I'm afraid I - glub - didn't catch your name earlier."

She said something quietly that Caltrop couldn't hear., After multiple attempts to ask her to speak up, she sighed and pulled out her communicator.

"Maise," he read aloud, and she nodded happily before pointing to the door of a supply closet.

"I don't understand."

Frustrated, she pointed at the door again. Caltrop stepped closer and then jumped back in horror when he heard a moan on the other side.

"Th-that had b-better not b-be what I think it is," he declared, bubbles flooding his gill tubes.

Maise folded her arms and glared at him.

"Me?" Caltrop said weakly. "But I - I can't - why _me_ \- we have to leave -!"

Something inside the supply closet clattered to the floor. Another moan escaped.

"Oh _noooo,"_ Caltrop wailed, taking another step back.

Maise threw her hands in the air and whispered something that might have been, _"Butyou'retheheadintern."_

"And maybe I don't _want_ to be head intern anymore." He glubbed unhappily for a moment before setting his shoulders. "No, that's ridiculous. I - glub - do want to be head intern. I d-do."

Maise patted him on the shoulder encouragingly, and then shoved him towards the closet door. Caltrop fumbled to open it.

"Hey!" someone yelped.

"Oi!" exclaimed another.

In the shadows of the closet, Caltrop could see the outlines of the guilty parties as they sprung apart, knocking various items from the shelves. It wasn't surprising, as the supply closet had not been designed for two centaurs to fit within.

"Sass?" Caltrop gasped in horror. His eyes widened as he recognized the other party. _"Terrell?"_

"Caltrop!" Sass exclaimed guiltily, lifting a hand to smooth out her hair. "What are you - why aren't you at the barricade?"

" _Me!? Why are you making out with the enemy in a supply closet!?"_

Utterly betrayed, Caltrop stumbled backward. Maise stepped forward, waving her arms at Sass.

"Oh for Frond's sake," huffed Terrell, brushing hastily past the elf to escape. "I'm not waiting around to be gawked at by these incompetent interns."

"Hey!" shouted Sass, following him angrily, "Don't you dare call my fellow interns incompetent."

Maise and Caltrop both leapt out of the way just in time as Sas angrily kicked the door closed. It slammed shut, unnoticed by either centaur. They were too busy bickering with each other as they trotted off down the hall.

"W-we'd better return to the office," Caltrop decided. Despite himself, he felt his heart swell with newfound resolve. "With Sass gone, the other interns will doubtless need someone to look up to. And - glub - as head intern, that job falls to me."

—X—

Foaly was pouting by the time Artemis arrived at the Ops Booth. "I was expecting you this morning," he said. "Are you too busy with your special new offices to even stick to a proper visiting schedule?"

"I'm sorry," Artemis responded, his tone dry, "There was a delay involving interns. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Foaly coughed, dropped his carrot stick, and turned resolutely back to the computer. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said firmly. "Your package is on the corner of my desk, there."

Artemis retrieved the package from the tangle of loose wiring it had already been buried beneath and eyed it skeptically. "This is it? Odd. I'd imagine something as small as this would not take two months to compile and pass along."

"Of course that's it. And you know, I'd have an easier time prioritizing your department if you didn't actively keep me out of the loop." The centaur wrinkled his nose, appraising the human before him. "I know you're big on keeping secrets, Mud Boy, but I'd sleep better knowing exactly what you're up to. Remember Chicago? Iceland? Denver? I don't like surprises, especially not when they involve you."

"You're obligated to report to the LEP," Artemis replied, still turning the package over in his hands. "If I could safely keep you in the loop, you have my word that I would. And for what it's worth, Holly also agrees that this is a necessary precaution."

He flicked his tail. "That's the only reason why I'm giving you this tech at all. I trust Holly's judgement."

"As do I. And now that we have this, we'll be able to integrate it into our systems overnight and resume operations tomorrow. Now that it would actually interfere with our productivity, I would appreciate it if you ceased increasing our daily intern count according to the Fibonacci sequence. It was clever at first, but now it's simply petty."

"It's not petty. You stole my AI," said Foaly, trying to not pout even as he entered a string of code into his computer to cancel the delivery of thirteen interns to LEPfoul's offices.

Artemis waited until the computer beeped in affirmation before he strode to the doorway of the ops booth, pausing on the threshold. "On that topic, I would like to know: Why exactly would you program Icarus to know about human musicals? In what situation is that ever going to be useful information?"

Foaly snorted. "Well, if they ever decide to lead a revolution, at least they'll be able to give it some rousing theme music?"

"I never told you the interns were revolting."

"Hey, that's not a nice thing to say about your own staff. Though the fishy one _is_ a little -"

Artemis raised his hand to cut the centaur off. "Thank you, Foaly. Although, just what revolution was your AI programmed to lead, anyway?"

Completely deadpan, Foaly responded, "The centaur revolt, obviously."

Artemis spun on his heel and left without another word.

—X—

When Caltrop and Maise returned to the office, the marketers had pulled back to reorganize their ranks. Now that the interns had space to breathe, they'd begun to confer amongst themselves and several points of interest had been discovered. The crowd was waiting by the side door, and they didn't look happy.

"I-is everything - glub - alright?" Caltrop asked.

"No," declared Shyrill and Ambryn in unison. "Everything is not alright."

Mulch had emerged from the fridge to join the interns in their confrontation. "We have a spy in our midst," he declared. "And we all know what we do to spies."

Caltrop was confused. If anyone else had made this statement, he would have assumed Mulch was the spy in question, given his close friendship with their bosses. "N-no, what d-do we do to spies?"

Mulch slammed fist to palm, as though that were the only explanation necessary. Alarmed, Caltrop cried, "B-b-but who would I b-be spying for anyway? _I'm head intern!"_

Mulch paused, confused. "You?"

"We mean _her_ ," said Shyrill, gesturing to the elf beside Caltrop.

" _She's_ the spy!" added Ambryn.

Caltrop bristled to the elf's defence. "Don't be absurd. She's an intern - just like us all." He cast an anxious eye toward Mulch as though expecting the dwarf to leap forward and devour him whole. "Er, most of us."

"She's a spy!" both pixies said again, forcefully.

"She's trying to sow derision amongst our ranks!" Shyrill exclaimed, spreading her hands.

"She's driving us apart so the marketers will be able to defeat us! She drove our bosses away, exposed Sass for the traitor that she is, and pulled you from the barricade! It's obvious!" chorused Ambryn.

"Don't be so mean," Caltrop said forcefully, though his mind was churning with the possibilities. "This is b-bullying, you know. And I don't see why either of you - or any of you others - have a say at all. You've barely been here a d-day. I am the h-head intern and I s-say this is absurd." With that, he took Maise's arm and pulled her back into the hallway.

The elf resisted, squeaking unintelligibly.

Caltrop attempted to argue with her. "I d-don't care if you _were_ a spy. You're an intern, too, and that means - hold on." He paused at the closet that only minutes before had been occupied by two centaurs. "I j-just have to check -" Still holding tight to Maise with one hand, he pulled the door open and shoved her inside.

"See, the bonds of internship are - glub - powerful forces. Forces beyond either of our control! I won't l-l-let those fall by the wayside, even if you have. M-Maise, just - oh, I give up -!"

And with that, he slammed the closet door shut, ran his thumb against the lock, and waited for the green light that meant it was sealed from the outside. From the other side of the door, he could hear Maise mumbling something. It was hard to read the tone of the elf's voice, so he raised his chin and his voice.

"Maise - glub - you listen to me! I won't - won't tell our bosses. Just wait until this dies down, sneak out, and never - ever - come back. Oh, curse this revolution! C-c-curse the bonds of liberty, of freedom, and of fellowship amongst interns!"

The elf finally spoke clearly. "Aren't - uh, liberty and freedom kind of the same thing?"

Caltrop paused, thinking hard. "That's a good point."

And with that, he wailed and fled the vicinity.

—X—

**4pm**

The sounds of revolution could be heard the moment the elevator doors sprung open. "That's not a good sign," said Artemis, ever the master of understatement.

Holly merely narrowed her eyes.

They strode down the hall briskly. The music and shouts got louder as they neared, so that it was a miracle when they heard a frantic pounding come from the supply closet just outside the Foul Team's secondary door.

Frowning, Artemis paused to release the lock. Half a second later, the door burst open to free one of the new interns. Artemis raised his eyebrow at the sight of her, while Holly visibly took a step back when she recognized the hairstyle.

"Thank you!" gasped Maise, nearly bursting into tears. "I-I-I'm so sorry!"

Rather astounded that she was actually speaking at normal volume, Artemis patted her awkwardly on the shoulder once. Just once, and then he rapidly drew his arm back to his side. "You were locked in a closet, that's all. It could happen to anyone."

Behind him, Holly snorted and then tried to cover it up with a cough.

"But I was - I was - " Maise's voice dropped and she continued in a whisper, her face going red in shame.

Artemis nodded as she spoke. "I see," he said once she finished, turning to share a look with his partner. "Time to get this over with, I suppose." He stepped up to the office's side door, opened it quietly, and stepped inside.

The interns of LEPfoul were so engaged in their battle against Terrell and the marketers at the main doors that they didn't even notice Artemis and Holly enter the room. Their intern base had been greatly depleted by the revolution, as most of the new assignees had slipped quietly away in the midst of the chaos. Caltrop had regained his perch on the top of the barricade, and Sass had once again found her flag. Shyrill and Ambryn were both waving around desk lamps. Icky, still caught on malfunctioning mechanics, was doing his best to throw foam shells at the enemy every time he swung near the action.

Artemis stopped a few feet behind the chaos, pausing to take in the disaster before him. As soon as he realized total comprehension might be beyond even him, he crossed his arms and settled in for a long wait. Holly halted beside him and mimicked his posture. Neither of them said a word, both watching the scene before them with matching unimpressed expressions.

It was several minutes before anyone caught sight of the LEPfoul leaders. The first were several of the advertising agency staff, as they were actually facing the offices. They froze in place, causing Terrell to shout at them in annoyance. Finally, one sprite tugged on his arm and pointed. The centaur shut up instantly.

That was when the confused interns finally realized that something was happening behind them. Lowering their weapons, they turned slowly and saw a sight that would haunt their nightmares for a long time.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. "Are we done yet?"

After a sudden jab from Terrell, one of the marketing staff scampered back to the hall and shut off the music. The sudden silence was deafening. Sass dropped her flag. Caltrop scrambled down from the barricade.

"Good," said Holly. "Because you're all promoted."

Everyone looked up, sure they had misheard her. "Not you," Holly continued, glaring at Terrell. "But be sure I'll be talking to _you_ later."

The centaur suddenly decided that storming the barricade may have been a terrible decision after all, and began silently herding his staff from the room.

Artemis waited until the marketers had left before saying, "But make no mistake, if this _ever_ happens again -"

"- and rest assured, we _will_ hear of it -"

"- each and every one of you will be fired."

"Immediately."

"Understood?"

There was a pause before the interns realized their bosses were waiting for a response. They all nodded anxiously.

"Now back to work."

The interns dispersed. Everyone was silent and dazed, not entirely sure how they had gotten away with their revolution - or if they really had. With their bosses, it was sometimes hard to tell exactly how and where consequences would play out.

Mulch crawled out from beneath a pile of chairs. "Promoted?"

"They took matters into their own hands. Showed initiative," said Holly defensively. "Defended the department."

"Additionally, they made a plan and carried it out well, even to the point of adopting an effective - albeit somewhat unconventional - manifesto."

"Wait," said Mulch, "You make it sound knew how bad this had gotten and you _still_ didn't do anything until now?"

Artemis raised his other eyebrow, nonplussed. "They're my interns. Of course I knew."

" _Our_ interns," Holly corrected. "Besides, you broke all my dishes last night. And ate our fridge."

"Fine. See where I am next time you two need your lives saved."

—X—

**6pm**

"Here's a question for you," said Holly dryly. "If we've just promoted all our interns to full-time operatives, why aren't any of them here to clean up this mess?"

Mulch, who had been busy sweeping confetti into a pile in the middle of the room, straightened with a laugh. "It's because it's the job of the interns to do that!"

"We don't have any interns now," Holly pointed out.

"Exactly."

Holly frowned, set down the bio-bag that she'd been using to collect all the used party cups, and crossed the office to where Artemis was hunched over in the corner. "Fowl," she said, and when he didn't look up, she repeated, _"Fowl."_

When he turned, Holly saw that he'd been busy organizing a rumpled stack of paper files. While the office operated primarily electronically, Artemis usually kept a stack of papers close at hand, guarding them protectively and glaring daggers at anybody stupid enough to try to touch them. These files had had the misfortune of sitting there when Sass decided to turn the desk on its side earlier that day. Now that the upgrade to the department's security was buzzing happily on the corner of his desk as it integrated into their systems, he had turned his full attention to trying to reorganize them. This was a process that involved a lot of muttering, and a lot of tuning the rest of the office out.

"Fowl," Holly said again once he was paying attention, "How many interns are coming tomorrow?"

"None," he responded, shuffling another paper into place.

"None?"

Something in her tone of voice caused him to peer at her more closely. "You told me to handle the situation, and I did. We won't be receiving any more interns."

"But we can't operate without _any_ interns," she retorted. "Now that you've gone and promoted everyone today, we don't have anyone to do things like clean up and filing."

"The promotion was your idea. You could have consulted me, seeing as I _am_ a consultant. If you had done so, I would have warned you that this would be a consequence of that action."

She threw up her hands, admitting defeat. "That isn't my point. If we had interns, we wouldn't be the ones cleaning up right now."

He looked down at his papers, then across the room with confetti, foam, and office supplies still scattered everywhere, and conceded the point. "Although," he added, "We do actually still have one intern. Maise."

"Who?"

"I realize that she's technically a spy for the marketing agency but I do think it would be useful to have a connection we could draw on in the future and -"

Icky drew near on his track and, before the mechanics could pull him out of earshot, said, "Isn't Maise the one who asked to join Foul Team because she idolizes Captain Short?"

That was when Holly realized which elf it was that Artemis was referring to. She blanched, briefly wondered if she should protest, decided it would not be worth the time, and quickly changed the topic. "You know if you didn't keep paper files, you wouldn't have to sort those all by hand now, right? Besides, they're horrible for the environment."

Artemis raised an eyebrow at the comment. "Yet, by keeping certain files out of any databases, Foaly has to physically come to our office to gain access. And we all know how often he comes here." Then, before Holly could respond, he pointed to his eye. "Besides, I've still not adapted to having both my own eyes. I'd gotten perfectly used to having one of yours, but your vision is better than mine. It doesn't make much of a difference during day-to-day activities, but staring at a screen for too long will occasionally give me headaches."

"It's been over a year since -" she began, and then cut off. Artemis simply nodded.

"I know."

Holly remembered how long it had taken her to get used to Artemis's eye after returning from Hybras - and, undoubtedly, that transition had been infinitely easier than his current one. For starters, she had magic to ease the adjustment process. More importantly, she had not also been in the process of adapting to a cloned body along with the altered vision. If his eyesight was the only thing to have fallen through the cracks upon his return to life, she supposed that was a fair enough trade. "Point taken," she conceded, "But speaking of paper, I was talking with No1 this afternoon."

"Yes, you said you went for coffee."

"And he told me that you stole the idea of the constellations gift from a - you know what? Nevermind."

But his face had turned bright red. Over the decade that she had known Artemis, Holly could count the number of times she had seen him blush on one hand. Now, it confirmed what she had feared.

"You actually _did_ , didn't you!"

"Did what?" asked Mulch from across the room.

"Nothing!" responded Holly, before lowering her voice so only Artemis could hear. _"You stole that gift idea from a human romance novel."_

"I did not," said Artemis primly, focused once again on shuffling his papers.

"You definitely did. No1 said he'd read that exact scenario in a novel by - by -" In her sudden panic, Holly had forgotten the author's name.

Artemis had not. " _The Fume of Sighs_ by Ida Leister," he said bluntly. "You do realize it was published mere days before Christmas, right? There is no way I could have created your gift in that time, considering I spent most of it sitting in a jail cell."

It was only then that Holly's gift of languages kicked in to catch the pun. "By Frond," she growled, _"You_ are - I can't believe you would -" She stopped. "I don't know what is worse - that you would steal a gift idea from that book or that you would come up with the idea yourself and then _write it into a romance novel and publish it!"_

Artemis glanced up at her innocently, which would have been easier if he were not still blushing furiously. "It was merely intended to be a thoughtful gift," he said stiffly. "I did not mean to offend you with any other intentions."

"I'm not offended by any of your _intentions_! Those actually aren't the problem! I'm offended because you just stole an idea from yourself! Is that even possible?"

"Wait. Then you're not objecting to -"

That was when Icky came sliding by on his track again. "What are you objecting to?"

"Nothing!" both yelped.

"He's doing that on purpose," Holly said, watching Icky slide away.

"It's an automated loop," Artemis replied immediately, seizing upon the change in topic. "That would be impossible. Although it would be a good idea to reprogram that function. I could do it right now."

Holly's eyes narrowed. "I'm finding a stool. You're taller - you get to actually catch him." And then, more softly, "We'll talk more later."

"Ooh? Talk more about what?" Mulch popped his head back around the corner, looked from human to elf and back again, and then blinked. "Oh, wow. You both look really flustered." He took a step forward, nudging Artemis in the side. "Hey! Finally got there, did you?"

"Mulch. Leave. Now."

"But I've been waiting for you to get to this talk for months! Can I at least watch -"

Holly slammed the stool down upon the tiled floor, pointing with a thumb at the door. "OUT."

—X—

**8:30pm**

As Foaly trotted up the walkway to his home, he could make out the smooth contours of an object on his doorstep. The centaur cantered the last few feet, kneeling beside the familiar little console.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, prodding at the artificial intelligence's casing.

"I messed up, man. My track got stuck, and then I kind of started a revolution. I think. There was a confetti cannon and lotsa music, so maybe it was just a big party. Long story short, the boss dudes decided that maybe I shouldn't be an intern after all."

"You got fired?" asked Foaly, baffled. He could not decide whether he was relieved, or whether he felt a little bit insulted that Artemis and Holly would even consider firing a personality that had been based - at least to begin with - off himself. All the same, the centaur patted the console soothingly as he scooped it up off the ground. He knew, logically, that it possessed no kind sensory input apparatus, but he hoped the AI would appreciate the gesture all the same. "There, there. It's okay, Icarus. Whatever happened, it doesn't matter. You're home now."

"Duuuude," the AI said, glowing a dejected shade of puce. "My name's Icky."

—X—

**9pm**

They finally fell silent in the lift on the way back to her apartment, and wordlessly went about the business of fixing the front door.

"By the way, we need to have a different talk, too," Holly finally said, quietly, as she tested the door to her apartment. Satisfied that it closed properly, she swiped the keypad with a thumb to lock it. "When I broke down and gave you that shelf space you wanted, I assumed you were going to keep to your own side of the shelf." She cast out an arm to the shelving unit pressed up against the opposite wall of the front room. "Because I understand that you have your _methods_ , but I need to actually be able to find things."

Artemis straightened from where he had crouched to solder the door hinges back into place. Pleased with his handiwork, he tucked the laser pointer back inside his pocket and turned to face her. "Holly, I may be a genius, but my filing systems generally do follow reasonable patterns and are actually contained. It shouldn't be too difficult to sort out, even for -" And then, "Wait. You weren't purposefully rearranging them in an attempt to passive-aggressively assert your dominance over this space? I was under the impression that was why we could not commit to an organizational scheme for more than a day at a time, and decided weeks ago to not respond to it."

She raised both eyebrows. "It _is_ my apartment. And I have no problems committing. I literally just told you that."

He lifted his hands, palms outwards in a silent apology. "Point taken, but the question remains. If I am not responsible for reorganizing the unit, and neither are you..."

She didn't wait to see how he was going to finish the sentence, crossing the hallway. Without asking for the human's help, she wedged herself between the corner of the unit and the wall. Counted down to three in her head, and then braced herself. Strained with her knees, and pushed it backwards out of the way.

"That explains a lot," said Artemis, craning his neck to see past her to the now-exposed wall. "That's how he's been getting in."

The tunnel behind the shelf was not especially large, winding back through the wall and into the foundation behind it. After half a foot it turned sharply, and it was impossible to tell exactly how far it went. Given the circumstances, neither of the apartment's occupants were particularly interested in delving into exploration.

Instead, for several moments, human and elf both stared.

"Mulch didn't even bother to seal it after him. Just dragged the shelf back into place. Put back anything that fell down." She shook her head, horrified.

Artemis was also appalled. "Didn't bother organizing it at all. If I didn't know better, I'd even guess that he'd assumed we would blame each other for the resulting mess." Paused. Considered. Decided that what he was about to say was, indeed, worth it. "There may be a bright side, though."

As anticipated, she swivelled to stare at him. "Do tell."

He grinned, tapping twice on the side of the shelf. "At least we know it wasn't the plumbing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY, FOUL TEAM! Yup, we posted the very first episode exactly one year ago today. (Unleash the confetti cannon!) It's hard to believe we're only halfway through this thing! As a sort of commemoration thing, I wrote a post on my livejournal about how Freud and I actually started collabing Foul Team in the first place - link is, of course, available through our profile.
> 
> Anyway, we've got a sort of lengthy author's note today so bear with us:
> 
> First of all, I should apologize for how long it took for this update to go up. Over the summer, both Freud and I were wrapped up in other projects. In addition to summer classes and work, we both wrote for the Narnia Fic Exchange (which is currently posting a fic a day on LJ, if you're interested in checking that out). I also spent July drowning in origfic for Camp Nanowrimo. - Winged
> 
> Seconded! I guess we took a bit of a summer vacation from this fic. Sorry for the wait, and we're back now! Perhaps fittingly, this is the obligatory breather episode before we dive into the second half of the season, and start bringing things together properly. Enjoy the sheer, silly chaos of this moment - it won't last for long! - Freud
> 
> By the way, we sort of accidentally ended up taking a vacation from responding to reviews, too. It was not intentional, we promise! Thanks, as always, for the support and feedback. We both love hearing from you all! - Winged
> 
> As an apology for the ridiculously long posting delay, we've uploaded a few Foul Team-inspired playlists on our shared 8tracks account (under the name 'freudwithwings')."Gone Identity Mad!" is a mix for Ray Eskola, "Littlest One First" is for Demia Carter, and "Do You Hear The Interns Sing?" is the official-unofficial soundtrack for the intern revolution. We'll keep posting new mixes as new chapters go up, new events unfold, and new Changelings get introduced. Happy listening! - Freud
> 
> The title of the romance novel, by the way, comes from a quote by Shakespeare: "Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs." - Winged
> 
> I'm a bit disappointed in myself. I'm the English major, yet Winged was the one who found the perfect Shakespeare quote for the moment. I can only respond in kind:
> 
> "Live in thy shame, but die not thy shame with thee!"
> 
> I suppose I shall. - Freud


	14. Kids These Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webisode 2.04.5: Myles Fowl is smart enough to know that he's in over his head, but he has no idea how deep the rabbit hole actually goes.

**OUTBOX:**

Dear Henri,

There isn't an easy way to say this, so let me be blunt and tell you that I suspect that my oldest brother is a spy.

Let me explain:

A year and a half ago, he died. Or, at least, that's what we were told. Some days I wake up feeling like there's something more to the story, like if I could only stay in the moments between sleeping and waking for a little bit longer, I could remember...but then the feeling passes. It's not important.

Six months later, he came back with no warning or explanation - when I pressed for information, he promised me that he would explain the complete story when I was older. At the time, though it irked me, I accepted that as the truth and assumed that he must have good reasons. I had no reason to doubt him. After all, he _is_ my brother, and I trusted him implicitly.

I bring this up now because I think things have changed.

It has become a matter of debate between Beckett and myself as to exactly what happened to him during those six months. Beckett, perhaps having seen too many action movies, was caught up in fantasies of top-secret, covert spy training. I dismissed that as impossible, because if an intelligence agency capable of that kind of deception truly existed, I'm certain that somebody in my family would have known about it.

(That sounds absurd, I know, but please just trust me: my family would know. Somebody would have put the pieces together, if it were the truth, but nobody did. We mourned. The day he returned was the only time I have ever seen my father cry. My parents, clearly, have no idea what else is going on here.)

Since he came back, my brother has been working with a very mysterious group. I don't exaggerate; I have only ever heard it referred to as the LEP and I haven't had any success in identifying this group despite all my research. It doesn't help that whenever I have seen my brother communicate with his coworkers, it has all been over the phone and in a coded language.

And then, at Christmas, I fully intended to inform him of our project. I know you asked for my discretion, but he's family, and he's even smarter than I am. If anybody could help us past the roadblocks we've hit recently, it would have been him. When I broached the topic of the odd energy signatures around our manor, however, he became distant and I could not quite read the look on his face. Perhaps he was about to explain the truth to me, or perhaps only to discourage further inquiries.

It turned out not to matter either way. Before he could finish two sentences, he was arrested on blatantly false charges and held overnight in the local precinct. I may be young, but I can take a hint, Henri. There's no way that timing was an accident.

I haven't asked him anything since, and he has not broached the topic again. Either he was targeted to prevent him from revealing the truth to me (in which case we must get to the bottom of it ourselves), or to prevent me from revealing the truth to him (in which case, the same principle applies, for his own safety).

Either way, I am certain that whoever the LEP is - and whatever double-life Artemis is leading - these developments have placed us in an even more precarious position. That said, for long as you are confident that these messages are still being sent on a secure connection, we should be safe for the time being.

After all, I _am_ only six years old. While I am limited, I may be the only one in a position to find the truth. They're bound to be watching Artemis carefully, as well as our parents. I, however, am more likely to slip through the cracks. This has bought us time, but I have a sinking feeling that the stakes may be higher than either of us imagined.

Please tell me - what do you suggest we do next?

Your friend,

Myles

-x-

**INBOX:**

Hey kid,

I had no idea that you had been caught in such a position! First off, I think you're totally right in how you're approaching this situation: we should leave your brother out of things. I get wanting to go to him for help, but knowing what we know now, I definitely feel like it'd be safer for everybody if he doesn't know what we're doing. That's gotta be tough, realizing you've been lied to - it's probably not my place to say anything, but any support you need, I'm here for you, okay?

In terms of our project, I've expanded my net a bit to get you some better numbers. Still can't get a fix on the actual local signatures around your family's home (and knowing that your family may be under surveillance, I'm not sure it's safe to try!), but these should be a bit closer. Maybe try running them through the program and let me know what happens? I don't know if they'll actually hone in on the frequencies we need, but at the very least you should be able to report back a clearer oscillation pattern. Does that sound right?

Your friend,

Henri

-x-

**OUTBOX:**

Dear Henri,

Thank you for that! Please don't worry about me, as I know that I'll be okay. My family's made of pretty tough stuff, and even though nobody will tell me much about our past, I know enough to be certain that we have survived much worse than this before. I'll be okay!

That said, agreed. I won't bring it up with Artemis again.

Thank you, as always, for the data! I think we may be a bit closer, but unfortunately, the system becomes more unstable the nearer it gets to the right frequency. For a moment we were in range, and - well, I could _feel_ it. That sounds odd, I know, but I am positive we were there!

And then it nearly exploded.

It turns out that if the numbers aren't precise enough, it will loop back into itself and slip rapidly into instability. My twin brother happened to be in the room at the time, and he threw his shoe at the console to shut it down before it could do any harm. I've got some minor surface work to do to repair some of the wiring, but otherwise, everything is fine here! I think I'm at a loss for the input data, though. I mean, if you can't get more precise information - and I definitely lack the means to take these measurements myself! - we're stuck. It could be dangerous to keep playing around in the dark.

What do you think?

Your friend,

Myles

P.S. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'd like you to stop calling me "kid." I recognize my age is a big deal but I would prefer to be treated as an adult!

-x-

**INBOX:**

Dear Myles,

You are entirely right. I don't want you putting yourself in harm's way for this!

Since your last message, I've met somebody who is interested in the same thing that we are, and I think he's willing to try to help us! If you are under surveillance and unable to get the measurements you need, I think he'll be able to make the trip out and gather them himself. He's really enthusiastic about this, actually! More importantly, Ray knows his stuff, and he's taken a look over all the data and agreed that your manor is probably the best geographic location to focalize this project.

Don't worry, though - I won't get you in trouble! Ray's really good at flying under the radar: he'll be in and out, and nobody but us will ever know that he was there. I realize this puts you in a tricky moral position, but believe me: I am 100% certain that he can be trusted!

If you're right about Artemis, getting these oscillation patterns locked in as quickly as possible might actually be the only way to keep your family from coming to serious harm. I guess I'm asking you to trust me to help you, Myles. Please. I know things look scary, but we'll figure this thing out one way or another.

I promise.

Your friend,

Henri

P.S. Hey, by the way, I'm sorry. "Kid" was just meant to be a term of endearment. You know, those things that friends use to refer to each other? If it makes you feel better, you are by far the smartest person I've ever met, six years old or not!

-x-

**OUTBOX:**

Dear Henri,

I believe you, and you're right. I'll sit tight on the project until then.

Please tell Ray to hurry.

(And I'm sorry, too. I guess I'm not used to having many friends! I should have known you didn't mean any harm by calling me "kid." I don't say this very often, but you're pretty smart, too!)

Your friend,

Myles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat fitting for having just passed our 1 year anniversary, we hit 100 reviews today. Freud and I thought it was another cause for celebration so rather than sit on this webisode for another week, we decided to post it today. - Winged
> 
> Agreed! Thank you so much - you guys rock. Seriously! I could ramble on for ages about how much it means to us both that you're here and coming along on this crazy fic-journey with us, but you know what I mean, right? You're awesome!
> 
> And, as a side note, this webisode is the reason your parents always warned you against making online friends. Just saying. - Freud


	15. Brewed Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 2.05: LEPfoul is back in business! Artemis traces the origin of the Christmas hack to Italy, Holly has a chat with the marketing agency downstairs, the interns get a new boss, and decaf coffee is awful.

"Excuse me," said a customer loudly over the counter, interrupting Vedette as she set another pitcher of milk to steam. "I asked for decaf."

She held the pitcher carefully for a few seconds, listening intently to the way air bubbled through the drink - once satisfied, she set the pitcher down against the bar and left it to froth. Only then did Vedette glance up. "It is," she reassured him. "I poured it myself. Definitely decaf."

The young man looked down at his drink in irritation. "I tasted it myself. This is not decaf."

"Would it make you feel any better if I told you that I may or may not have gone over the makeup of the triglyceride compounds involved in our decaffeination process and tweaked them a little bit myself, to make the brew even tastier when it comes out the other end?" Vedette asked brightly, giving Obnoxious Decaf Guy the pasted-on smile that usually allowed her to get away with such statements in public. "Trust me, it's decaf. The beans aren't as glossy when you go to grind them, I took them out of the bag labeled 'decaf,' and then double-checked before I ground them, too. And then I checked again after. Decaf coffees don't have as many oils collecting on the surface of the water, see? You're good, I promise. Nice and caffiene-free." _Though I can't imagine why anybody would WANT to be_ , she thought but didn't say. "Have a nice day, sir," she finished, turning her attention back to the espresso shots she'd queued to pour from her machine. Most customers assumed she was joking when she ran on tangents regarding the chemical processes behind the cafe's signature brews. She supposed that was because she looked too young - or perhaps too chipper - to have any actual knowledge of chemistry. Obnoxious Decaf Guy clearly made no such assumptions, and (unfortunately) had no intention of simply taking his coffee and leaving her alone.

"Good," he said sourly, ignoring the paper cup on the counter before him. "Then you're the person to talk to about this." He pulled a clear plastic bag from the pocket of his coat and held it out over the counter. It seemed to be filled with tiny components usually found on the inside of a computer.

"Uh, I'm not really the best person to talk to about actual technical…" Vedette started, before she recognized the contents of the bag as having come from the inside of _her_ computer. Her personal cube-shaped computer. The computer that she had built and programmed herself. "Hey!"

Apparently satisfied, Obnoxious Decaf Guy tucked the bag back into his coat and waited.

"Ray, can you cover for me? I'm taking an early break." She half-turned toward her co-worker while asking, and then sighed. "And what have I said about those gloves? Clear violation of our health-and-safety standards, as well as our dress code policy. I'm sorry, but they have to go."

"Sure thing, boss. I'll get rid of them right away," responded the young man behind the cash register. He clearly had no intention of disposing of the gloves any time soon, waving once at Obnoxious Decaf Guy before making a dismissive hand motion to shoo Vedette away from the bar. "I'll take over for you. Go!"

-x-

When Dodo returned to the office, she carried a silver box housing an artificial intelligence under one arm. In her other hand was a plastic pouch full of water and guppies. The first thing she did was pour the fish into the aquarium. Then she approached Holly's desk to deliver the AI.

"I found this at my doorstep when I got back from vacation," the dwarf explained, setting the box down gently. "I think Icky rolled halfway across Haven to get there."

"Icky rolled?" Holly asked.

The lights on the box blinked excitedly. "Duuudes, you should have seen me! So I'm full of this gel-stuff because it cushions my brain, right? Turns out if I try really hard, I can shift it! And when I shift the gel, it makes my brain move! And that changes my centre of gravity, so _I can move along with my brain._ "

Holly blinked, processing that mental image. "You're a box, not a sphere. You _can't_ have rolled."

"Well, yeah. I didn't say moving was _easy_ , did I, dudes? If I had literal guts I totally mighta lost my lunch a couple times."

Holly sighed. "You realize that when anyone else moves their brain around like that, it's called a concussion?"

Dodo shrugged. "I tried to explain that to him already. I don't think he understands the concept."

"But that's okay, I'm here now so everything's cool! And I promise not to start anymore revolutions or dance parties. Unless you want a dance party, in which case I could totally provide the music." To demonstrate, catchy Russian pop music began to play from one of his speakers.

A moment later, Caltrop poked his head around the corner. "Can you turn that off? I'm - glub - having barricade flashbacks."

"Barricade?" echoed Dodo. "And what's this about a dance party revolution? I can't make sense of anything Icky says about it."

Caltrop did a double-take. "Dodo! Glub! You're back! I thought you quit." He turned around, yelling to his coworkers. "Sass, Maise, guess what? Dodo's back! She d-didn't quit!"

"Of course I didn't actually quit," Dodo responded, mildly offended that anyone had taken her announcement seriously. "I went on holiday. And would someone mind explaining to me what's happened while I was away this past week? I feel like I've been gone for a year!"

Caltrop considered explaining the past week's events. It was a lot to cover: the barricade, the attempted intern revolution, the conflict with the marketing agency downstairs, the round of mass promotions that had left LEPfoul with only a single intern to their name, and - he remembered discovering Sass and Terrell locked in embrace in the supply closet, shuddered, felt his gill tubes begin to clog, and disappeared from the doorway with a choking sound. Icky's lights dimmed slightly in presumed sympathy.

"Nothing much," began Holly. "Foaly finally gave us the replacement component for our systems so we could trace the hack that occurred over Christmas. Now that we've got a clear location, Artemis is aboveground investigating the guilty Changeling. He's in Italy now. I've got a comm channel set up with him." She gestured to her earpiece, and then remembered something. "Oh, and we promoted everyone. Congratulations, Manager Feldspar, you're now in charge of all the interns in this department. Operatives, I mean. But also the intern. Not myself, of course, and not Artemis because he's technically just a consultant." She reached into a drawer and withdrew a shiny new badge that Dodo took reverently.

"Really?" said Dodo, tilting the badge to the light. "I can't remember ever actually being promoted while on holiday before."

"We realized how important you are to keeping everyone in the office running smoothly," Holly said. "So congrats! Everyone here is your problem now."

Sass, who had only now decided to come investigate all the commotion, groaned loudly. "Does this mean I have to actually start showing up to work on time?"

-x-

By the time Vedette had rounded the counter, Obnoxious Decaf Guy had taken a seat the corner of the store. His coffee sat untouched in the centre of the table. The plastic bag of components lay in a heap beside it.

"Those are mine," she told him unnecessarily.

"Interesting," he said. "They look an awful lot like something that used to be mine."

"No," Vedette said, folding her hands on the table and trying to not feel put-out at the fact that he'd gone to all the trouble of ordering a coffee without apparently having any intention of actually drinking it. "The interesting thing here is that you've got my science fair project disassembled in a plastic bag."

Obnoxious Decaf Guy lifted a single eyebrow. "Odd, since several years ago I also told people that the construction of a cube-shaped computer was a project for a science fair in order to deflect any questions. It was a ruse that -" He coughed, adjusting his tie. "Well, it didn't quite work out for me." After a pause Obnoxious Decaf Guy touched his ear and frowned, apparently listening to something (or somebody) Vedette could not hear. "Apologies. I've just been informed by a reliable source that 'didn't work out for me' is apparently the 'Understatement of the Year,' and I should feel ashamed for saying it."

Vedette could practically hear the two sets of air-quotes.

"Let's start at the beginning. Over Christmas, my office servers got hacked. We've since traced the hack to its source: you. At first I'd believed that the hack had simply been rerouted through your systems, in order to deflect any attention from the real source, so I made an attempt to access those systems in order to see if this was actually the case without having to involve you in the investigation."

"You waited until I left for work, and then broke into my house so you could go through my stuff," Vedette simplified. She could feel her fake-cheerful customer service smile slipping more with every word out of this stranger's mouth.

"And found this on your desk: a computer that's been built nearly to the exact specifications of the blueprints stored on one of my own, hacked systems." Obnoxious Decaf Guy prodded the plastic bag with a fingertip.

"No, you found the fully functional iCube on my desk. It looked nothing like this when I left my room three hours ago."

He grit his teeth. "What did you call it?"

"iCube?"

"It's supposed to be the C-Cube," he said, touching his ear again with a grimace.

"Oh, I thought iCube sounded cuter. Plus it conveys the same idea. You know, 'eyes' can 'see'? It keeps the gist of the pun, but it's just a better name. Not nearly as clunky."

"You're not even attempting to deny any of this," he said, and then blinked. "Why aren't you attempting to deny any of this?"

"Well," Vedette said brightly, "Taking technology that isn't mine, building a new and improved device out of it, and then attempting to claim all credit for that invention by myself? That'd be super unethical, and likely to end really badly."

"You don't say."

"Oh, I definitely do say. I guess I'd even say that, well…" She reached for the paper cup, taking a huge swig of coffee before finishing her sentence. The cafe's decaf blend, even after her best interventions, really _was_ awful. "If I did that, it probably wouldn't work out for me. And that's an understatement."

-x-

Holly was laughing so hard that it took Artemis three tries to catch her attention through the comm: "Holly? Might be time for that talk with the downstairs neighbours. Holly? _Captain Short!_ "

"Understatement," she snickered. "I'm sorry. I think it just hit me that we are dealing with people every bit as smart as you are."

"Yes, ha ha," said Artemis, not at all amused. A confused Vedette opened her mouth and he held up a finger, turning in his chair to continue his conversation with Holly. "The hackers, Holly. Amateurs they may be, and they would not be a threat if not for their Changeling contacts, but clearly they've started leaking isolated packets of information about instances of interspecies contact. Worse, they have stripped it of any context that would clarify the consequences of said incidents. We need to stop this before it spirals any further out of control."

"Which is what I've been saying for weeks," Holly grumbled. "Have I finally gotten your permission, oh great consultant?"

Artemis could have reminded her that, while their department's systems were crippled from the Christmas hack and unable to stand up against scrutiny, passively gathering information from afar had been the wisest course of action. Watching the hackers act while they were unaware they were being observed had been a valuable opportunity to figure out exactly who - and what - they were up against. He also could have pointed out that there was little point in denying her permission, as Holly had certainly never needed anything of the sort before. She'd have acted on her own accord weeks ago if she disagreed with his logic, and they both knew it.

However, it turned out that Artemis was smart enough not to take that bait. Instead he just rolled his eyes, and turned back to face Vedette. "Fine. Let's have it your way. Why don't you tell me everything you know about the People?"

-x-

"Wait, you're leaving already! But I just got here!" Icky yelped as Holly stood up. "Where are you going?"

Disregarding the AI, Holly strode into the main office. "Caltrop," she said, "I'm heading downstairs to talk to the hackers. Keep an eye on our servers to make sure we don't get hacked again while I'm gone."

"Y-you're just going to talk with them?" asked Caltrop. "You - glub - think that'll just make them stop?"

"Oh, no. I definitely don't think that'll be enough to make them stop." She grinned. "We're going to shut them down no matter what it takes. I have no problem arresting every fairy in that office, and I'd have done it by now if they'd stuck their toes far enough out of line for me to do so without explaining the entire Changeling situation to the LEP. Now, I figure I'll give them a courtesy visit first."

"Oh, I see," said Caltrop, still unsettled. Then, "W-w-wait, you found them?"

Holly shrugged. "There's a reason Artemis chose this office space for us. Think about our downstairs neighbors - what do marketers even _do_ all day, and why on earth would they need an entire office to do it in? They're your hacker friends. We've known this since day one."

"I thought we were here because the previous tenants had just gone bankrupt?" Caltrop blinked. "Wait - my friends are here? My internet friends _stormed our office and forced us to build a barricade to defend ourselves?_ "

"They've been trying all sorts of tricks to figure out what we're up to. That strawberry Juliet took from their offices was actually a surveillance device that they've been trying to retrieve ever since. And you already know that Maise was originally a spy for their cause."

"I was the only one who thought she _wasn't_ a spy!" Caltrop wailed, casting an injured glance across the room. "I _defended_ her!" Maise had the grace to sink down in her chair and attempt to hide behind her hair, mumbling something that may have been an apology.

"And the tenants before us didn't just move. They were bought out and moved to a nicer premises," said Holly. "I'm sorry, Chlorella. This is why you shouldn't trust strangers you meet online."

With that, Holly continued out into the hall, leaving Caltrop to process everything on his own. "The hackers," he said, "They were the - glub - of course they - blub - would -" He cut off with a yelp as something heavy landed on his toe.

"Oops," said Icky. "Sorry. Just passing through, dude!"

Maise mumbled something else, probably another apology to Caltrop.

"That's right!" agreed Icky cheerfully, tilting on its side. The cube wavered for a moment, and then tipped over with a thud. "I _can_ move by myself. See? It's okay, you can stay right where you are. I'll follow 'em and find out what's going on with our neighbors."

Maise made a skeptical sound.

"Of course it's safe," the AI argued, right before toppling once more. This time it slammed against the leg of Dodo's desk. Her fish tank wobbled. The dwarf reached to lift the glass out of harm's way, scowling.

"Those are my fish," she said primly. "It may be a mistake, but I am trusting this office not to kill them."

Maise made another skeptical sound, before bending out of her chair to scoop Icky up and set him on the edge of her own desk.

"Thank you, dear," said Dodo, replacing the fish on the desk corner. "As for _you_ -" she said, turning back to the AI. "You stay right here. You've had enough mobility for the day."

Caltrop was still coming to terms with Holly's revelation. "Sass," he called. "Did you know about this?"

The centaur flipped her neon blue hair, glowering. "I most certainly did not."

-x-

Downstairs, Holly had wasted no time getting in an argument with Terrell.

Like Vedette, the centaur hadn't even bothered denying any of the accusations levelled against him. Unlike the barista, he had a habit of stamping his hooves as he spoke, alternating left and right with each syllable. "No! We're fairies for change! We want to bring fairy and human societies together once more. It's time the People returned to the surface of the planet! It's time we properly reveal ourselves to the humans so our cultures can learn to coexist in harmony."

Holly groaned. "Humans are all well and good in concept. But have you ever spent time in close proximity with one? Because I live with one, and it's not all fun and games. He literally built an entire machine just to get out of doing the dishes."

"See! You cohabitate peacefully!"

"'Peaceful' is a stretch," said Holly. "As is 'cohabitate.' Let me simplify this." She pulled out her tablet and selected one of the books stored in its memory. "Here. Pick a page, any page."

Skeptical, Terrell took the tablet and poked at the screen.

"Read it aloud," Holly prompted.

"' _The bank in question was one of the most guarded in the human world,'_ " Terrell read. " _'This fact did not at all deter Artemis; rather, he took it as a challenge. Using a recording of his own mother's voice to…'_ " He stopped reading. "Clearly, I chose an unfortunate passage."

"Clearly," repeated Holly wryly. She nodded to the tablet. "Pick another."

He did. " _'The Extinctionists were a human group devoted solely to the eradication of endangered species. Because of this, handing the lemur over to their custody was certain to guarantee the small creature's death - yet, Fowl did it anyways.'"_ Terrell coughed and then, unprompted, flipped to a new passage. " _'To this day, Fowl expresses dismay over the ability of his fragmented subconscious to evoke the hallucination of a squid roughly the size of a blue whale. Of course, the reader can be left to make their own assumptions regarding exactly what horrors this human's mind - conscious or otherwise - is actually capable of conjuring.'"_

He set the tablet down and gave Holly a searching look. "A giant squid? Clearly this entire book is a work of fiction."

The elf raised a single eyebrow.

"Well, I mean, it must be," continued Terrell, less sure of himself. Slightly unsettled, he poked at the screen again, sliding one finger along the scroll bar to find a passage closer to the beginning of the book. His eyes flickered as he read the scene silently to himself before blurting, "There is no way a thirteen year old human kid shot his own father in front of the Russian mafia!"

Holly frowned. "I hope he didn't tell Argon that he pulled the trigger himself, because he definitely made somebody else do that part. His aim was nowhere near good enough to pull off that shot. He just stood back and watched the chaos ensue."

Frustrated, Terrell slid the tablet back across the table toward her. "Well clearly this author is biased."

Holly laughed. "Actually, Argon is the only psychiatrist that hasn't had a mental breakdown after dealing with Artemis. They may not be friends, but they both have a healthy respect for each other."

The centaur was beginning to grasp at straws. "Maybe that human is just a bad egg. All species have them."

"That human is one of the best humans I have ever met," Holly countered immediately.

Terrell sat in silence for a minute, processing the backhanded compliment. Finally, he told her, "Well, that's racist."

-x-

Artemis was having the same conversation with Vedette, but in reverse. "No, really. You don't know what you're asking for. If humanity were to learn of the People, it would devolve into chaos."

"But they're _fairies_ ," Vedette protested, taking another sip of coffee. "They can't actually be that bad. There's so much we could learn from them!"

"Have you ever met one? Flame-throwing goblins. _Mind-bogglingly stupid_ flame-throwing goblins, who attempt to run crime syndicates in their spare time. This goes about as well as you'd expect. Carnivorous cave trolls, with poisonous tusks. And yes, they _are_ smarter than the goblins. Dwarves with hair that can actually be crafted into tools, the ability to tunnel their way into nearly any location, and a digestive system that can break down even diamonds if given the time to do so. And that's saying nothing of their flatulence. Swear toads - those are exactly what they sound like, by the way. Toads that swear incessantly and reproduce non-stop. They're actually quite a problem for the People, so it's a blessing that they're confined to life underground. Oh. And there's elves."

"Elves? Those don't sound so bad."

Artemis fixed her with a dead stare. "Elves are the worst." He paused, blinked as though his entire life had flashed before his eyes, and then continued. "Biggest threat of all, if the situation were to escalate to conflict. They're incredibly bright, almost impossibly resourceful when cornered, and altogether too stubborn. I've seen one elf in particular cheat death more times than I can count, simply by refusing to accept it. I think I would rather face down another dozen trolls than have an elf mad at me."

-x-

Holly was having a difficult time controlling her anger. "You can't be this stupid! Your plan to bring together our two worlds would lead to nothing but trouble and war. Do you have any idea -"

"Let me through!" brayed an loud and familiar voice from outside the room. This was followed by a loud clatter, a shriek of protest, and the thud of hooves falling against a door. The door in question swung open, and Sass barged into the room.

"A hacker!?" she shouted. "You are one of the hackers? Bad enough that you were leader of the marketers, but to find out you're actually a part of the hacker group we have been battling from the start? You're the reason I have to put up with Caltrop!"

"Who?" asked Terrell, backing up. "Or, uh, what is a Caltrop?"

"Don't you _dare!_ This is all your fault! All of this is your fault. What are you trying to do, anyway? Change the world? And you couldn't even tell me?"

In the face of Sass's fury, Holly's own anger seemed insignificant. "Um, Sass, could you wait outside?"

"I thought we _had_ something, Terrell!"

Holly swore loudly, eyes darting around the room as though searching for a place to hide.

"No!" yelped Terrell. "I mean, we do! I like you, Sass. I really like you!"

Undeterred, Sass stormed around the table. "Yet you couldn't even ask me to change the world at your side? Did you think I wouldn't be able to embrace your extreme ideology? I want change! I want chaos! Why do you think I was attracted to you in the first place? Chaos! Revolution! But you couldn't even _share_ this with me?"

Terrell gulped. "Well, it wasn't like this was ever going to actually _happen,_ Sass! Be realistic! It was a pipe dream! A hobby! Actually making contact with humans - that wasn't supposed to happen! It just kind of snowballed out of control on us. We didn't expect any of them to actually believe us, and even if they did, we didn't expect them to be bright enough to actually do anything about it!"

"What?"

"I mean, have you ever _met_ a human?"

-x-

"You may be right," Vedette conceded, tipping her head to the side. "You might not, though. Time will tell? It's kind of too late to do anything about it. Phase one starts tomorrow."

" _What?"_

-x-

"It wasn't _my_ idea," protested Terrell.

Holly's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

"Um. There's this Russian pop artist - you may have heard his music before? We've been playing it around the office for weeks."

Holly thought back to the revolution and cringed. "I don't like where this is going."

-x-

"I don't listen to music," retorted Artemis.

"Even so," said Vedette. "Everyone's heard his stuff. Dorian Maslov. You know, that Russian musician that's been everywhere lately? Pop artist who's already made it big in Europe, now poised to finally make his worldwide breakthrough. Interspecies breakthrough, even, I guess you could say now. He's the linguist who translated the fairy language in the first place for me, back when he was still gaining traction so he had time to spare on things other than his career. And he's playing a huge concert tomorrow. Biggest venue yet, and he's got some new material he's definitely ready to debut."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. - Freud
> 
> Turns out it's been a year since our last update. Which, uh, well, was completely unintentional. A small team of side characters that we were going to introduce in a webisode later on suddenly started demanding a whole book of their own. So we thought that wouldn't be a huge deal, we could write it in a matter of months and then come back to LEPfoul. But then these characters started making puppy dog eyes because they wanted a whole trilogy. And for some odd reason, we decided to give it to them.
> 
> Turns out, we are weak in the face of ragtag teams of misfits. Who knew?
> 
> Aside from that, both Freud and I finished our bachelor degrees, woot! You might have been able to tell - one of us is a marketer and the other one a psychologist who currently works as a barista. And then the summer got busy with post-degree life changes. Apparently being done with school can lead to less writing? (Although hopefully, that is soon to change!) - Winged
> 
> As previously stated, "whoops" is about the most accurate summary - and apology - that we can give! If you're still reading, thank you so much. Seriously, it means the world to us. - Freud


	16. Short Circuited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 2.06: Foul Team races to censor a musical prodigy only to discover he’s got more than a song up his sleeve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up that we refer to and discuss mental illness as relating to The Atlantis Complex in this episode. If you're worried that there might be a trigger in here for you, feel free to send a message our way to clarify.

For years, Holly and Mulch had kept a running bet on which of their friends would be the first to create a robot capable of ending the world. This was a surprisingly complicated wager; firstly, they'd had to narrow their definitions of both "robot" and "end of the world" to make sure there was no room for ambiguity about the terms of the bet. Secondly, the fact that there were multiple contenders in this race was alarming in and of itself. Smart money was on either Foaly or Artemis, with the odds fluctuating between the two as bad ideas struck (and were promptly shot down, sometimes literally if needed), though they didn't have a monopoly on the threat. Minerva's brief-lived interest in artificial intelligence as it related to human psychology had been remarkably frightening, and both elf and dwarf dreaded the day No.1 realized that he could experiment with combining magic and technology.

The invention of Icky had seemed to tip the balance irreparably in Foaly's (dis)favor, although Mulch had remained adamant that Foul Team's artificial intern had not yet shown any murderous tendencies despite his short-lived career as a revolutionary. Holly had retorted that it was a matter of time.

So far, though, so good. The world remained more or less intact despite (and arguably because of) the best efforts of their immediate social circle, and the prize pool remained unclaimed.

That is, until Holly opened the door to her apartment. She'd not planned to spend more than two minutes at home, needing to pick up some supplies before heading to the shuttleport to go aboveground and deal with this Dorian character, but her intent was derailed as she found herself face-to-screen with a modified dishwasher-on-wheels that blocked up the entirety of her front hall. For an absurd moment, she was in denial: The new dishwasher had arrived earlier that week and the delivery-gnome had already taken the old one away.

And then she remembered that Artemis had been the one to sign for the delivery, and that he had reassured her over text that the old one "wouldn't be a problem any more." Clearly, they weren't operating under the same functional definition of the word "problem."

"No. Not today, thanks," she said, one hand resting on her neutrino just in case the dishwasher decided to attack and voice steady just in case it could sense fear. Not only had Artemis programmed its interface screen to display a pixelated face, but he had added mechanical arms. Holly was fairly sure there was absolutely no plausible reason any dishwasher should be allowed wheels, arms, and a face.

And then, horror of horrors, it spoke: "AJSDFLSKJAFLKJSDFAOIEWJFAOIWEJF."

_D'arvit._ Holly drummed her fingers against the barrel of her blaster, mentally revising the murderbot betting odds. "Say that again."

A smarter enemy would have heard the threat in her voice and remained silent. Almost too cheerfully, the machine obliged with her request:

"AJSDFLSKJAFLKJSDFAOIEWJFAOIWEJF?"

There was an implied question this time. Holly considered the situation. Obviously, it had understood her well enough to be sarcastic - she wasn't sure if this was a positive or negative development, but she knew from past experience that Mud Boy would be insufferable for weeks if he returned belowground to find that she had shot one of his projects without definitive proof that it deserved to die.

There was really only one safe response. "Go away."

"ADKLFSDLF," the dishwasher agreed, and rolled backwards down the hall. The pixelated face grinned unblinkingly at her as it went.

She watched until the machine had backed into Artemis's room, the metal arm awkwardly closing the door behind it, and then decided she wasn't quite satisfied yet. She hesitated only a moment before poking her head into the room. The wider space had allowed the dishwasher enough room to turn around, revealing a handwritten note taped to the back of its chassis. Artemis still handwrote Gnommish in spirals; she wasn't sure if it was out of habit or purely an annoyance tactic, forcing her to crane her neck to read the message:

_Holly;_

_This is MoriarTEA. Still in beta, may be glitchy. He's just a baby, so play nice._

_-A_

"Right," she said, more to herself than anything, "I can work with that. Nap time for baby."

She pulled out of the room just in time, for the dishwasher had heard her words and was starting to turn around again. Holly slammed the door shut, and then fused the handle with her neutrino to ensure the potential murderbot could not get out. Artemis would have to use his laser pen to physically clean out the lock's mechanisms. _Good,_ she thought. _Hope it takes him ages to get back in there._

There were going to be _words_ over this later.

-x-

Diggums and Day Private Investigators had been enjoying a break between cases when Mulch received a short but alarmed message from Holly about new information relevant to the murderbot bet. Assuming that Icky was finally making a play for world domination, Mulch had decided to drop by the Foul Team office and watch the ensuing fireworks.

Unfortunately, the office was relatively quiet when he waltzed through the door. The operatives were working efficiently at their desks, Icky was humming to himself as he rocked back and forth in the corner of the room, and Holly was nowhere to be seen. Nor, realized Mulch, was Artemis.

The dwarf wandered towards Dodo's desk. She tensed, one arm half-lifted in case Mulch was hungry for sushi and reached for the fish tank. He pretended not to notice and asked, "Any idea where I can find Holly?"

Caltrop looked up from behind his computer. "Holly went aboveground b-because Artemis built a murderbot."

Mulch punched the air in victory. "Yes! Knew that kid had it in him!"

Slightly alarmed, Dodo shook her head. "No? She went to join him for a Changeling matter."

That was disappointing. Still, Holly's message _had_ mentioned a murderbot and Caltrop had to have heard something about the matter even if he'd mixed up the context. "The murderbot?"

Caltrop shrugged. "She seemed really - glub - annoyed about it? Much more worried about that than - glub - the pop star."

"Ha!" said Mulch. That was very promising. He sent another message to Holly asking for details and then asked as an aside, "So, pop star Changeling - what did they do?"

The water sprite shrugged again. "Wrote a song in Gnommish and - glub - wants to perform it at his c-concert tonight."

"Huh. Is he good?"

As Caltrop's musical exposure lay almost entirely in the niche glub-step genre, he hadn't any idea. "He's one of - glub - those m-musicians that goes around with j-just one name? That means they're b-big, right?"

"Sure. What's the name?"

"Dorian?"

If Mulch's jaw wasn't currently hinged, it would have hit the floor. Even so, it came close. "Dorian!? Holly and Artemis get to meet _Dorian_ and I'm missing it!? And on the same day that Artemis creates a murderbot, too. How come I always get saddled with your messes, but show up too late for the fun days?"

-x-

Artemis did not look like he was having fun when Holly found him on the sidewalk outside the concert venue. He was glaring at one of the "DORIAN LIVE!" posters on the outside of the building, his hand clenched in a fist. Juliet was actually giving him a respectful distance - not too far to protect him should the need arise, but not close enough to suffer through his complaints. Still shielded, Holly drew up beside Artemis before saying in a low voice, "So we're here to stop a pop star from singing?"

"Unfortunately, we actually have a bigger problem than one Gnommish song."

"I'll say," said Holly, still steamed about the encounter in her apartment. "I have had more than enough of your inventions coming back to bite us in the -"

"That makes two of us!" he snapped, before pulling a hand through his hair and breathing out between clenched teeth.

Holly noticed that he was already stressed, and chose to ignore it for the sake of making a point about acceptable and inacceptable usages of worn-out household appliances. "Fowl. Why would you _make_ something like that!"

"Well, I didn't make it like _this_ , obviously! And I was trying to save the planet, even though my mental state was - clouded - at the time."

"Artemis. Since when has saving the planet ever worked out for - wait, mental state? Are you okay?"

"Of course they cluster together in groups of four for best effect," the human continued, sounding extremely put-out and ignoring both her interruption and concern. "That's the easiest way to harness their potential without causing too much interface delay, which would lend itself towards lag in the cross-wiring which could cause a catastrophic failure reaction - I don't know why I didn't think of that - actually, I do know exactly why that didn't occur to me as a potential solution to the problem, and it's incredibly irritating that it was obviously apparent to-"

"You made four of them?!" Holly blanched, wondering where Artemis had attained the other dishwashers, where he was storing them now, and if the so-called glitches in MoriarTEA's programming were the result of such a catastrophic failure.

He fixed her with a stare, cutting off his technical explanation with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I made thousands of them. You know this."

She blinked, trying desperately to ignore the mental image of animatronic dishwashers overrunning the world. "For the love of Frond, we'd better be talking about two different things right now."

"What are you - oh, MoriarTEA?" He lowered his hand. "You met him, then. I trust all was satisfactory?"

"Let's just say that I was going to shoot it, but then I sealed it in your room instead."

The human deflated slightly. "Oh. Did he get your drink order wrong?"

"My what?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Either he was going to offer you tea, or he would peg you as hostile and attempt to drive you from the premises. If the latter, I figured you could handle him."

To her credit, Holly reacted well to learning the robot's mission. "A security system that offers you tea. Only you would - well, maybe - no, not even Foaly would make something like that."

"Need I remind you that Foaly programmed Icky to know multiple human showtunes?"

"...Fair point. But at least Icky's language interface works."

"The language interface wasn't functional?" Artemis frowned, and then shook his head. "Apologies, then. I'll iron that wrinkle out later. No, I was talking about these." He lifted a hand, turning his palm up for her inspection.

She frowned, waved a hand over her helmet's visual interface to activate the visor's zoom function, and scanned his hand. After a second, her helmet automatically located and magnified the objects of interest, bringing four small devices into clear view. They looked like miniature snowflakes, each one uniquely formed within a perfect circle, all covered with a faint reflective coating that glimmered slightly under her scrutiny. They clumped together in the center of his palm, joined by the thinnest of fibres radiating outwards from the center of each one. "Fowl?"

"Yes," he said, not bothering to draw out the charade of that question. "Those would be my nano-wafers. Here. In Russia. With several significant technical upgrades upon my basic design."

She ground her teeth. "Fine, I'll ask. How did this happen?"

"It seems that when Vedette hacked into the files shared between my servers and Foaly's systems, the C-Cube blueprints weren't the only ones that were compromised. The nano-wafers had also been kept in the same subfolder, so I ran a scan when I arrived."

"And you knew to run this scan because….?"

He gestured to the poster and Holly took a closer look. Below the "DORIAN LIVE!" heading was the proclamation that the tour was "ECO-FRIENDLY" and going to "SAVE THE WORLD." She glanced back at Artemis and realized he was now visibly sulking. It wasn't a good look for him.

"D'arvit," she sighed, and shot a pointed look at Artemis that was entirely missed due to the fact that she was still shielded. "Guess we have to go stop a Changeling from ruining the world with his tech. Again."

"Saving the world," corrected Artemis bitterly. "With _my_ tech."

-x-

With Holly around to keep an eye on Artemis, Juliet now felt safe splitting from the two of them to investigate something that had been worrying her. The security didn't seem quite right at the venue: unusually stiff and especially glowery. She didn't like it. The other two could look into the pop star; she would prepare for the bigger problems they'd be dealing with soon enough.

Upon reaching the press entrance, Artemis and Holly were passed by a group of aides - all of whom seemed to be in a desperate hurry to escape the building. For a moment Holly wondered if Juliet were right, but a closer inspection revealed that two of them were actually holding hands over their mouths and making choking gasps.

"Crying?" asked Holly, hand slipping to her weapon as her gaze darted around the hallway in a search for the potential threat.

"Laughing," corrected Artemis, frowning.

He took advantage of their preoccupation to palm a press pass, clipping it to his lapel before approaching the security. Usually, he would make small talk to distract the guard enough to slip past. This time, cover was provided by another man shouting on the phone as he stepped out of the room.

"Don't tell _me_ that," the man was yelling as Artemis slipped past, " _I_ know that. But _you_ try telling him! Think he'll listen any better to you? He's a nightmare! I swear, I am this close to actually quitting this time…"

"We're in the right place, then," observed Holly.

Artemis coughed. "That _is_ the reaction people tend to have around Changelings."

"You would know."

They passed through a short hallway and then another set of double doors into a room that had clearly been set up for a round of press interviews. People scattered around the rim of the room wore expressions ranging from frustration to utter despair. In the centre, surrounded by a number of lights, cameras, and microphones, were two people engaged in the strangest duet Artemis had ever heard.

The older gentleman was currently singing tunelessly and uncertainly: "Your show is getting… known for being… green. Could you elaborate… on what your… new inventions…" He paused to think, "mean?"

Beside him was a teenager with a carefully side-swept haircut, a careless slouch to his spine that Artemis could tell was feigned for the press, and a smile that rivalled the camera flashes for brightness. Clearly Dorian Maslov had been working advertising deals into his publicity tour - on his nose perched thick-framed brand-name glasses with the recognizable Google Glass clipped over his left eye, his feet were encased in a pair of neon-coloured sneakers that had definitely cost too much money, and he wore a hoodie with another logo emblazoned across the chest. He sang back without hesitation, his voice clear and strong:

"My nano-wafers are the bomb! They're powered by the sun. They bio-degrade and don't pollute, and vanish when they're done!"

Clearly pleased with himself, the pop star sank further into his seat and folded his arms with a grin.

"These nano-wafers… then….I guess…..are pretty great creations?"

"I could spend all day telling you about their applications! They generate juice to run my show, and they reflect away the sun's hot glow. So they can help fight climate change -"

This was too much. The interviewer stared at Dorian dully, clearly reluctant to continue playing the rhyming game.

"Come on, you can do it," the pop star said. The interviewer blinked. Dorian rolled his eyes and hissed out of the side of his mouth: "What rhymes with climate change?"

The interviewer struggled. "...You're… deranged?"

"There you go! That'll work!" Dorian spread his arms in triumph, speaking in a normal voice again. "Give this man a hand, guys!" he called to the other members of the press. "What a performer." He beamed. "Who's next? Any volunteers, or should I pick from the crowd?"

Even though Holly was invisible, Artemis knew exactly what face she was making. It was probably similar to the expression on his own face. He sidled up beside one of the other reporters in the room, being careful to keep his head down as Dorian chose his next victim. "He sings every interview, doesn't he?"

She licked her lips nervously. "Every single one. His fanbase eats it up."

"Just when I thought Changelings couldn't get any worse," Holly muttered.

-x-

When the round of interviews were over, a small team of personnel swarmed the pop star in a coordinated effort to herd him towards the desired exit. Dorian was having none of that. He waited just long enough for his trademark side-swept fringe to be fixed into place before spinning around.

"Wait," he sang, pointing, "You. I need to sing to you."

Artemis, observing the organized chaos from the edge of the room, raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Everyone else, shoo!" To emphasize his point, the teenager flapped his hands until the personnel began reluctantly filing out of the room. When the last of them had left the room, Dorian shut the door firmly and fiddled with his phone before returning to his stool.

Thankfully, when he addressed Artemis this time, Dorian spoke normally: "So who are you?"

"Member of the press," began Artemis.

The singer cut him off. "No, you're not. You were barely paying attention to my interview earlier, so you're much too self-absorbed to be on the holding side of the camera. And I'd been curious what a real Gnommish accent would sound like, but now that I've heard you speak I can picture it much more clearly. It's not quite an accent you've got, but I think the fairy tongue does slip in around the vowels a little - is that the language you speak at work, then? You must be very accustomed to it. Also, you are exceptionally pale. Do you live underground, too?"

"So that's what that feels like," Artemis murmured. He could have argued that thirty seconds of the interview had been more than sufficient to get the gist of the entire thing, as well as infer a great deal about Maslov's character. For instance, making assumptions about the personalities of strangers based on the degree of attention they were paying to your current exploits was juvenile to the extreme and no self-respecting genius would be caught dead doing it. Or Artemis could have informed the other Changeling that he had made a concentrated effort to remove any trace of an accent from his voice, and if any regional inflection could be inferred from his speech patterns he was certain that it was purely coincidental. Also, he could have pointed out that _exceptionally pale_ was a lifelong affliction that had nothing to do with his current working conditions. Instead, he straightened his tie and sighed. "In that case, hello. I'm Artemis Fowl. We need to talk about your set list for tonight."

Dorian grinned. "I know who you are, Apollo. Who's your friend?"

"Artemis," he said firmly, even though the pop star was clearly just trying to irritate him. "What friend?"

Dorian nodded towards Artemis's right. "Your friend the pixie. Or is she an elf? It's hard to tell with that helmet over her head."

"D'arvit," said Holly, unshielding. "Well, this is fun and all, but now we're going to have to mindwipe you."

The pop star stumbled back, throwing his hands up in alarm. "Wait! Wait wait wait! You can't do that!" He looked to Artemis for confirmation. " _Can_ they do that?"

"I have it on good authority that they can," he said, and was proud of himself for keeping his grin to a minimum. "Sometimes it even sticks."

Holly rounded on Artemis, snapping. "Do you think you're helping? Do you honestly think you are helping? Is that ever a thought you have had: 'Oh look, there's a situation here. I'm gonna help.' Like the tea thing. Did you think -"

"Occasionally," said Artemis, cutting her off, "yes, I _do_ try to help."

"Like with the nano-wafers," said Dorian, apparently oblivious. "By the way, if this is about royalties, I'm sure we can work something out. I'll even give you extra if you don't erase my memory of this conversation. Because those nano-wafers are awesome. I'm sure you thought you were helping when you designed those!"

A silence greeted his statement. Then Holly couldn't hold her laugh back any longer. At least, it sounded like a laugh - it might have started as a sob. "Let's _not_ talk about what he was thinking back when he built those. Pretty sure _nobody_ wants to know."

Artemis had the sense to look mildly embarrassed. "My intentions were good," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

Dorian gave him another once-over. "To be fair, I would have approached you about royalties as soon as I planned on making use of the blueprints, but I honestly didn't think you'd notice. Your plans were such a mess that I got the impression that you were just some eccentric, scatter-brained Irish nutjob."

The word choice was unfortunate.

Holly barked another laugh, and Artemis whipped a glare in her direction.

Far below the Earth's surface on the other end of the LEPFoul communications, Mulch let out a low whistle. "Who's the nut? You're the nut! Who's the nut? You're the -"

Artemis turned his comm off. Stiffly, he said, "I'm better now."

"Just like that?" asked a skeptical Dorian.

"Yes, just like that."

"What, like magic?"

"Not magic," said Artemis, affronted. "Magic was the problem."

"Because it sounds like a magic solution, too. Those blueprints were _wacked out._ You don't just get better from that. Unless you were on something. Were you on something? No judgement! Just curious."

Artemis gritted his teeth. "I was not 'on something.' I just got better."

Dorian gave Holly a knowing look. "Oh, clever. You let him think he got better after you cured him! Well done. Guess that's how you get that to stick."

"No," said Artemis and Holly in unison. Then, also in unison, they turned to look at each other.

Artemis opened his mouth. Closed it again. Holly raised a hand. Lowered it.

Dorian did not wait to see the outcome of this apparently telepathic conversation. He took two steps back, slipped out the door, and booked it down the hallway. _Did fairies have telepathic abilities?_ he wondered, and made a mental note to further investigate when he was less occupied with running as though both his life and memory depended on it.

-x-

The answer to that question was, of course, that fairies did not have telepathic abilities. Neither did Artemis Fowl, as much as he might enjoy pretending to the contrary. Both he and Holly were, however, acutely aware of the fact that they both were wearing comms. Artemis might have turned his sound off but those below ground could hear every word of a conversation through Holly's helmet.

He lifted an eyebrow, and she shook her head a fraction of an inch. Artemis frowned, watching the elf unblinkingly. She held eye contact for long enough to convey her lack of regret, before conceding and dropping her chin. After a long pause, Artemis tapped his finger to his leg four times. Holly responded with two curt taps of her own. Both interpreted this to mean that any further conversation would be postponed until a more appropriate time.

Arguably, this silent exchange could be construed as a form of telepathy in and of itself - luckily, neither of them intended to make that particular case.

Perhaps it was a good thing Dorian was not there to see it.

-x-

When Artemis flicked the sound back on for his comms, Mulch was still chanting. "Who's the nut? It's yoouuuuu!"

_He knew about what she'd done, too_ , Artemis realized. _Mulch has always been able to joke about my Atlantis Complex, because he had it on good authority that there was no permanent damage done._ He was unsure how he felt about that. In fact, he was unsure how he felt about any of this situation. It stung, but he was uncomfortably aware that he understood Holly's motivations for the healing - and subsequent deception - all too well. Even when he had come clean to his mother about the existence of the fairies, he had allowed Angeline to believe that he had kept all of the People's ransom gold. He did not need to speak with Holly to know that when she decided to not mention her involvement in his recovery from his Atlantis Complex, it was for his own good.

That didn't make it any easier to swallow. Fully aware of the glass house he was sitting in, Artemis knew he couldn't exactly throw stones. Still, that wouldn't stop him from kicking at the rather large pebble that Holly had dropped through his roof.

From farther in the background, Caltrop's very confused question interrupted Artemis's musing: "Wait. Who's a nut?"

"Haven't you ever read Argon's book?" asked Mulch.

Artemis cleared his throat. "That particular part of the adventure had _better_ not be in Argon's book."

"Wait. You never even read it?"

Despite being shaken by the discoveries of the last few minutes, Artemis covered it well. "After the mess he made reporting on the Manor Siege? Of course not. In that report, he'd literally described me as a 'dangerous creature.' Need I remind you that I was twelve years old at the time? A tad excessive, yes?"

Mulch grinned. "I was there, remember? I read that report too, and thought 'creature' was putting it mildly. For years, I was convinced you were a centuries-old vampire and _that_ was why the bio-bomb didn't kill you. I had it alllll worked out." He beamed before muttering, "And then puberty happened. Threw a nasty wrench into that idea, let me tell you."

"Thank you for that analysis," said Artemis sourly. "I try."

Only Artemis Fowl would attempt to position adolescence as something he had endured for the sole sake of spiting Mulch's worldview.

"True friends," continued Mulch as though he hadn't heard, "are the ones that know puberty happened and don't hold it against you."

"I hold it against him," said Holly, not missing a beat and also covering her own thoughts well. "Anyway, have we given Dorian enough of a head start that he'll have let down his guard yet? Because I'd like to get this wrapped up soon."

"According to the tracker Artemis slipped on him," said Caltrop, "He's about to go on stage."

-x-

The sound of the crowd swelled as Dorian skidded out onto the stage. Still panting slightly, he fumbled one-handedly with his mic system while gesturing behind his back to the band so they would cover while he did so. Normally, he'd get wired up behind stage but things had been even more chaotic back there than usual - probably, Ivan the drummer had started another fight with the stage manager. Plus, Dorian hadn't recognized the blonde chick who'd waved him over to do the wiring. While the road crew did rotate out pretty frequently, Dorian wasn't going to take chances on a day like today. Dorian had simply scooped a spare headset mic up on the way past, perched it on his head, and figured he'd make do.

So now he was out of breath in front of a screaming crowd while his bandmates played the intro to their first song of the tour. Dorian waved, and thousands of fans roared in response. When he turned the mic on, the speakers picked up an odd crackle. Dorian turned it off, blew on the tip a couple of times, accidentally inhaled some of the cloud of nano-wafers that rose into the air, and hoped the tech was as friendly to the digestive system as the wacked-out blueprints had promised it would be. Then he shrugged, decided there was nothing he could do about it now even if it wasn't, and turned the mic back on.

"Welcome!" he shouted, and hopped back and forth to get in the mood of the first song. Luckily, the piece had a pretty extensive instrumental introduction, so Dorian had a chance to catch his breath.

_Ba dum tsh!_

Confused, Dorian nearly stumbled over the first line of the song. Percussion wasn't supposed to join in until the second half of the verse, no matter how often his drummer had argued for an earlier cue. He made a mental note to fire Ivan and finally follow through on his threat to replace him with a drum machine at the end of the tour.

Then he turned around and realized somebody had beaten him to it.

Ivan Tarroc wouldn't be finishing this show - or even starting it. He lay slumped over the bass drum, the cymbal stand knocked to the ground by a flung-out arm. Dorian took a moment to hope he was just unconscious before it sunk in that he had slightly bigger problems headed his way.

Apparently, the blonde chick had taken it personally that Dorian had refused her help. She was charging straight for him as the brawl spilled out on the stage behind her. Hoping to make this look like an intentional part of the show, Dorian hopped out of her path while singing his next line. He hadn't quite finished before the girl wrapped an arm around his waist and slung him over her shoulder without even breaking stride.

It was almost like she had practise scooping up people who would much rather be monologuing.

Dorian had the sense to turn his mic off again before yelling at her to put him down. He yelled first in English, and then in Russian, and then in Gnommish just in case.

"If I put you down, you die," she grunted in English finally, finding a staircase to bolt down. Dorian's head thunked against her back with every other step, and a large green ornament in her hair cracked against his shoulder with the ones in-between.

"If you don't -" he began, the words choked out of him as she hit flat ground again and took off at a sprint. "If you don't, my show -"

The girl groaned in exasperation and muttered something that could have been "strange things" or could have been "changelings"; neither option made much sense to him, but Dorian figured that it was impressive enough that she had the breath to spare after running like that. "You have bigger problems!"

"No, I don't - the nano-wafers -!"

-x-

Artemis was dealing with the nano-wafers as they spoke, fingers tapping lightly against the keyboard on his phone. He counted himself briefly lucky that, in his paranoia during the process of developing the tech, he'd left himself plenty of back doors in the programming to shut them down if necessary.

"Hey, Juliet?" asked Holly over the comms, shielded and standing guard at the door. "Mind asking the Changeling what possessed him to try selling that tech to the Russian mob?"

-x-

"What - on - earth - possessed you - to try selling that tech - to the _Russian_ _mob?_ "

This time when the ornament hit Dorian in the temple it was with an especially hard slap, almost like the girl had turned her head on purpose. He winced. "Finally out of breath?"

"Not yet," Juliet growled, pushing both hands to the nearest emergency exit door. Alarms started blaring; she paid them no mind.

Dorian tried a different tactic. "Mind putting me down yet? Please?"

Juliet didn't respond to that one.

Something occurred to Dorian. "Wait - the mob? I didn't - I would never - oh. _Oh._ Ivan. Of course." The pop star swore under his breath in colorful Russian before reaching for his headset in a moment of blind panic. Then he remembered turning it off, realized it'd fallen off his head during the flight anyways, and let his arm fall again with another livid curse.

-x-

Artemis raised an eyebrow at his fellow Changeling's vocabulary, but let it pass without comment. With a final tap of the keys, he initiated the self-destruct sequence of the nano-wafers. All throughout the auditorium puffed little clouds of dust that might have been seen as stage smoke effects had anyone been paying enough attention to notice them. As it was, at least twenty different people had called the cops, and the rest were scrambling to get out of there before those cops arrived.

This posed little problem to Juliet, who had been moving fast enough to avoid any crowd currents. Unfortunately, the members of the mob had been moving just as quickly in the opposite direction. As the building's halls formed a general ring around the main venue, this meant that both groups were bound to meet in the middle.

Coincidentally, this was also the point of best cell reception.

Artemis had just risen to his feet when the door at one end of the hall slammed open to admit Juliet and her loudly complaining burden. Half a second later, members of the Russian mafiya entered through the opposite door. Juliet froze, caught between the desire to keep her favorite (or new least-favorite, she hadn't yet decided) pop star out of harm's way, and the need to protect Artemis. The members of the mafiya, meanwhile, had no such conflict - until suddenly they realized who stood in their path.

Juliet understood exactly what the lead mobster said, because she'd heard the exact same words come out of Dorian's mouth several times already.

Three guns clattered to the floor. Then the bulky man barked an order in Russian, and the last armed man followed suit, looking especially rattled as the weapon dropped from his limp hand.

"Uh, what was that?" asked Dorian, attempting to twist around Juliet's arm to take in the scene. "Did he just say what I think he -?"

"We're so sorry, sir. We didn't realize this went all the way up to you!"

Still shielded at Artemis's side, Holly rubbed her face with her palm. "Does the mob have any reason I _don't_ know about to be calling you 'sir?'"

Artemis didn't even bother responding to her. He was too busy staring down the mafiya with his iciest glare. "I'll forgive the transgression. _This_ time."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You have six and a half minutes. That will be sufficient time for your people to clear the exits and remove any physical trace of your presence here." He let the threat dangle unspoken in the air, not offering failure as an option.

"Yes, sir," said the mobster again. Then, hastily, he added again, "Thank you, sir." He gave Artemis half a bow and started to back up, nearly tripping over his dog in the process.

In the background, still hanging over Juliet's shoulder, Dorian whimpered. "What… _is_ he?"

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Don't encourage him." Then, finally, she dropped the pop star unceremoniously to the floor.

-x-

During the search for his father a decade before, Artemis had established and maintained multiple safe-houses while working to cover all potential avenues for a rescue mission. Scrambling for cover or accommodations in a crisis situation would not have been an acceptable risk to take and so, of course, he had ensured it would not be necessary. In the years since, he had maintained several of these houses in the more obscure and strategic regions of the world, knowing it would only be a matter of time until at least one of them became useful.

As per usual, his guess had been a good one; Dorian's concert venue was under an hour away from the closest of these.

Juliet had bundled the entire party into an armored car as quickly as possible and now drove like Lucia was on their tail, knowing full well that "six and a half minutes" was exactly how long they had before the mob regrouped somewhere not very far away, counted their guns, and realized they had the advantage after all. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and occasionally she muttered under her breath about how her brother would _not_ be happy about any of this.

While Artemis occupied his time by tapping away at his phone to check the remote security at their destination, Holly had pulled out her own tablet to tell Artemis's algorithm to prepare a mission writeup for LEPfoul. It was almost like nearly dying was something they did on a regular basis, and it freaked Dorian right out. By contrast, he was not nearly so prepared for all chaos to break loose at a moment's notice. Sandwiched in the backseat between Holly and Artemis, he rocked back and forth to a rhythm in his head, tapping his toes anxiously on the carpet as he tried to mentally compose a song about being swept off his feet by a mysterious girl with jade in her hair.

Inspiration wouldn't come. He had the melody, but the words weren't working for him. Relatively little rhymed with 'Juliet' in Gnommish.

"This is not good," he sang softly in the fairy tongue, trying to catch the tune. "That was the Russian mafiya," he continued, temporarily lowering the ice pack from his already-bruising face. "The Russian mafiya was _scared_ of you."

"Yes," said Artemis, not turning to look at him. The elf on his other side was giving Dorian a warning look, as though she heartily disapproved of the reminder that humans were capable of learning her language. Given that she and Artemis had conversed in rapid Gnommish on the way to the car, the pop star felt vaguely offended as he switched back into Russian.

" _Why_ was the mafiya scared of you? Who do you have to kill to get the mafiya scared of you?"

The question was purely rhetorical and Dorian immediately regretted asking it, in song or otherwise. Artemis turned to stare unblinkingly at the pop star, sizing him up before declaring calmly, "My father."

The hair on the back of Dorian's neck stood on end. He had no choice but to let that point digest for a moment before blurting in a more level voice, "Wait a minute! Your dad's still alive!"

"After they watched me kill him in cold blood, yes, he turned up several weeks later relatively unharmed." Artemis grinned. "The Russian mafiya is a superstitious bunch. They've somehow gotten it into their heads that I am one of the undead, and therefore not to be trifled with. Over the years, I've done nothing to dissuade that impression. Knew it would be useful someday."

Dorian whistled in appreciation. "And here I thought you were just crazy."

"Who says I can't be both?" said Artemis, lifting an eyebrow.

Holly pulled a face, not quite looking up from her tablet. "Fowl, play nice. I think Maslov's concussed. Be fair." To Dorian she explained, "Fowl's neither insane nor a vampire. You can calm down."

Dorian blinked. "I'll be honest with you: that's a relief. I do feel better now. And I'm not conc - oh, no. Has anybody spoken with Vedette lately? I'm assuming you found me through her. Is she -"

"Please tell me the mob _doesn't_ know about her involvement."

The pop star shrugged, then put the ice pack back over his forehead. "Ivan knew, so they might. I'd really appreciate it if you could at least check on her."

A short discussion followed, even though everyone already knew the outcome: Juliet would fly back to Italy, while Holly remained with the two comparatively defenceless humans at the safe house.

It was just as well that Holly had agreed to stay: Dorian's concussion was more than hypothetical. As Juliet sped off down the driveway, Holly sat him down and attempted to heal Dorian's injuries. While the head injury and jade-ornament shaped bruising on his face were both easy enough to heal, the residual magic left around Dorian's brain would need at least twenty-four hours to dissipate off before a mind wipe could be safely attempted. The elf had considered explaining to the dazed pop star exactly why it was a bad idea to poke around in human neural pathways that had been recently infused with magic, realized he was already one misstep away from collapsing into hysterical Changeling melodrama (which was at least eight times worse than the typical, garden-variety Changeling melodrama), and decided to leave well enough alone. "Sleep it off, human," she grumbled, and slipped out of the room to get some fresh air.

Artemis didn't need an invitation to follow.

-x-

As soon as Artemis closed the door behind him, Holly jabbed him in the stomach. "About MoriarTEA."

The genius actually cringed. "I said I would fix him. I can do it remotely. He'll be fine by the time we get home. But if you want him gone, I can do that, too."

"Oh." Holly actually felt bad. "No, I was going to apologize for giving you such a hard time back there, so shut up and let me talk. Your project's in development, I shouldn't have made such a big deal out of it. You were trying to help. And I know that I'm on edge. Is it just me, or are these Changeling situations getting bigger? Higher stakes each time."

"It's not just you. I've noticed it, too."

"What happens when we can't stop one?"

Artemis shrugged, the single gesture conveying a range of emotion. "We deal with whatever happens next."

Holly made a face. "Sooner or later, you were bound to come up with a terrible idea. For the record, that one might be the worst plan I've ever heard. Anyway, I was on edge, your robot was in my face, and I snapped. For that, I'm sorry. I guess before you moved in, I never realized how much of being a genius is made up of messy trial-and-error."

"Apology accepted. And I am sorry for taking over your apartment with my experiments. On the car ride over, I made arrangements to rent lab space in Haven," he said. "I'll stop bringing that process of trial-and-error into your living room."

"Really?" asked Holly, before thinking better of it. "No, actually. Don't. You live there too, now. You're allowed to use the space."

"Pardon?"

"It's nice to know you're not locking yourself in your study or lab for six months on end every time you get an idea. Regular contact with other people is good for you. And you're obviously happier for being around friends."

"It's not an imposition. I work faster on my own, anyways."

"And isolating yourself like that was how your Atlantis Complex managed to get to that stage without anybody noticing how sick you were," she reminded him gently. "Mud Boy, when you were in the hospital I overheard two medics in the hallway outside your room talking about how yours was an interesting case - not because it happened to a human, but because we don't let it progress that far without treatment in _convicted felons_."

He studied her for a moment, face impossible to read. "We're having this talk now, then?"

"Yes. First off, I'm not going to apologize for healing you."

"I wouldn't expect you to," he said mildly. This could be interpreted in a number of ways, but the elf chose not to dwell on it.

"Second, you need to know that I didn't heal your Atlantis Complex all at once," Holly continued, knowing that providing him with the technical details would set him at ease more than anything else she could offer. "That kind of magical manipulation was fine for your mother, but you've been exposed to so much magic over the years that it would have been dangerous for you. I had to do it in smaller doses over a longer period of time. Wasn't going to risk melting your brain."

It was easy for Artemis to fill in the gaps. "So every time I went belowground for a session with Argon -?"

"I gave you a boost," she finished, finally looking up to meet his eyes. "Third, I was planning to tell you once I was sure you'd recovered. Believing you were healing yourself was doing you a lot of good, and I didn't want to risk you slipping back if your worldview got unhinged too soon; the last thing you needed was any reason to be paranoid. I mean, your hallucinations had gone so far as to convince you that actual events _were_ the hallucinations. It was awful. But then - well, you remember how the day of your last therapy session went. There wasn't much point in poking at old wounds after that."

"Actually," said Artemis, "That last day never came back fully. I've got bits and pieces. Dreamlike, mostly. In patches."

"Oh." Holly considered this briefly. "That's probably a good thing."

"On the whole, I tend to agree with you." His tone implied that he had given the matter plenty of consideration.

Holly thought a moment longer, and then swore under her breath. "If I'd known that, I could have claimed to have told you about the healing right after that therapy session. Bypassed this entire mess."

Artemis was actually impressed. "I've been a bad influence on you. A decade ago, I doubt that thought would have occurred to you at all."

"It's been a long ten years," the elf agreed. "For what it's worth, you probably would have thrown a tantrum if you'd learned a decade ago that somebody had gone poking around in your head."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "Fairies really don't understand human aging," he complained, though there was no venom in it. "Allow me to point out, again, that I was literally twelve years old. Even if I were a normal child, I could hardly have been expected to have any kind of emotional maturity at that age." He paused for emphasis. "But still, point taken. For what it's worth, if it were any other somebody, I would likely be throwing a temper tantrum now, emotional maturity or no."

Holly finally asked the question that had been plaguing her all day. "It wasn't any other somebody, though. It was me. I fixed you. Are you mad?"

"Mildly," said Artemis, before amending, "But only for the deception. Any distress I'm feeling right now is offset by relief that you did not leave my mental state entirely in the hands of Argon. I really should be thanking you for that." He paused. "And I should be thanking you for giving me back my mind."

"I can't help but notice that you're not actually thanking me, though."

"Not yet. Let me stop being mildly mad first." He softened. "I'll get there, Holly."

She finally relaxed. "You can take all the time you need."

They exhaled in unison. One last thought occurred to Artemis. He spoke quickly, as though he were concerned that if he deliberated, he would lose his nerve. "Was the giant squid real, then? Or did I hallucinate that? Clearly _something_ happened relating to a nut, but was it actually a giant cephalopod?"

Holly's smirk had clearly been honed over the last decade, too. "Wouldn't you like to know."

-x-

The call came almost two hours later, when things had been quiet enough that Holly and Artemis had almost expected something to go wrong anyways. Their instincts were right: It was Minerva, and she needed help with a hostage negotiation.

"And you called us?" asked Artemis, although he really wasn't surprised in the slightest. "Who's the hostage? Your father? Your brother?"

"My boyfriend," answered Minerva. "You remember Saul? The skier?"

Artemis pretended to think. "I seem to remember someone by that name. Didn't you stand me up at the Nobel Prize ceremony to go skiing with him?"

" _Don't_ pretend to still be bitter about that right now," she said sharply. "He's been missing for three days. I thought it might just be bad cell reception at his ski resort in Switzerland but a ransom note just came in. I need your help. And you still owe me for the Jones thing."

Artemis lowered the phone to tell Holly, "We're going to Switzerland to negotiate a hostage release."

"Switzerland?" Holly repeated, before connecting the dots. "...Saul? Why would Minerva call _you?"_

"In addition to the obvious reasons, maybe because I am a certified hostage negotiator? Hurry up and grab your things."

Holly gestured to the bedroom door behind him. "And what about Dorian? We can't leave him here alone, and we're _definitely_ not taking him with us."

The phone was making noises. Artemis raised it to his ear again. "Yes?"

"We're on a clock with this thing, and I have a plane to catch," Minerva told him. "You are coming, yes?"

Artemis met Holly's eyes. She sighed, "You stay here with Dorian. I'll go help Minerva." When he opened his mouth to protest, she added, "Out of the two of us, who has been a hostage negotiator longer? Oh, that's right. Not you. _If_ I need any advice, I'll give you a call."

He relented with a curt nod, and relayed the information to Minerva before hanging up the phone. "I'll be waiting for your call. Anything to relieve the boredom of babysitting a pop star."

"Babysitting a human genius? That sounds so trying. At least he's not going through puberty."

-x-

The next time Artemis's phone rang was much sooner than expected. After a moment of surprise - Holly shouldn't have even arrived in Switzerland yet, let alone conceded that she needed Artemis's help after all - he realized that it was actually coming from Fowl Manor.

"Artemis," said Myles briskly. "You're proud of me, right?"

Artemis switched immediately into older-brother mode. "Absolutely. Unless you're about to attempt the scorpion experiment again. In that case, I'm not proud at all and you need to put the blowtorch down. ...What are you actually up to?"

"Nothing."

"You wouldn't have called over nothing."

Behind Artemis, the bedroom door creaked open.

"It's not the scorpion thing. I've shelved that one for now. I… just wanted to say that I'm proud of you, too. It doesn't take a genius to know that you've been involved in a lot of secret stuff that's really important, which is really cool and impressive. And I understand why you couldn't tell me about the fairies."

Artemis froze. "Myles, what did you do?"

"So I just wanted to let you know that things might get a little messy, especially in your secret spy world. Just so you could be prepared in advance. Keep your head down and be careful, okay?"

Dorian had rounded the couch and was now staring in horror at Artemis's face. "Wow, you've gone completely white. I didn't think you could _get_ any paler. You… oh god, you're scared. Oh god, is it the mob? No, I'm being ridiculous, you're not scared of the mob. _Oh no."_

Artemis tried to ignore Dorian. "Myles, _listen to me._ What are you doing? Whatever it is, you need to _stop._ You have no idea what you're dealing with. I'm coming home and whatever you're planning, I'll help you make sure that it won't -"

"I wasn't asking for help," Myles interrupted scornfully. "I've already got plenty of help."

"Help from whom?"

"My friend Henri. Who needs me right now so I've gotta go. Be careful and I love you, bye, see you soon!" _Click._

Artemis sat listening to the dial tone. Unfortunately, there was no way the name could be a coincidence; not in his world. Henri Becquerel had won the Nobel Prize in 1903 for his role in the discovery of radioactivity while working alongside his doctoral student Marie Curie, and the SI unit of radioactivity had subsequently been named after him.

As had Becquerel Jones.

_A unit of radioactivity representing the molecular activity in which one nucleus decays each second. An aperiodic event, an inverse second, a unit of collapse._

He lowered the phone from his face. It was a good thing, too, as the device had begun to emit an especially noxious cloud of gray smoke. After so much time in the LEPfoul offices, Artemis was well-versed in identifying precursors to catastrophic equipment failure; instinct kicked in. He wound his arm back and threw the phone across the room before it had even consciously occurred to him that there was going to be a problem.

It exploded in mid-air, a small and intense fireball pulling the oxygen briefly from the room.

Dorian was eyeing him uneasily; his eyes darted over to the pile of ash on the rug and the flames that had begun to ripple along the bottom edge of the curtains, and then back to Artemis's face. "What the-"

The sound of a second explosion came from the bedroom. "...That would be mine," said Dorian unnecessarily. "I modelled it after the blueprints I found for yours."

Artemis was too busy carefully prying a smouldering communications and tracking chip from his shoe to respond right away. In hindsight, he would consider himself lucky that the entire loafer hadn't burst into flames; as it was, he was too busy removing molten metal from such close proximity to his heel to count this as a victory.

"Um, should we be evacuating the house?" asked Dorian. "Since it's probably gonna burn down any minute now?"

"We're out of time," Artemis agreed, mind racing so loudly he was barely aware of the words leaving his mouth. "We need to return to - I need to go home."

"I'm not sure how much this'll help, since my pilot is probably in police custody right about now," said Dorian, knowing better than to press for an explanation as he bolted for the door, "but I've got a plane? You've got a safehouse in Russia….what are the chances you also know somebody who knows how to fly?"

"Higher than you would expect," Artemis replied, limping two steps behind him with his shoe in his hand. "Let's go."

-x-

_To be continued…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This one is a bit of a doozy.
> 
> Hi! It’s Winged! How’re you all doing? It’s great to see you after so long! Because oops, it’s been awhile. 
> 
> Freud had a serious health scare that kept her from writing for a few months (she’s doing okay now, managing things a lot better), and we’ve both been dealing with some complicated career building. Now Freud’s the one sorting through papers all day while I… Well. You know all those intern and marketer jokes we’ve been making for the past two seasons? Turns out the punchline is that I’ve just become an actual-factual marketing intern myself. I’m already practicing my Lucia Evasion Maneuvers.
> 
> But look! New words! And things are about to get crazy up in --
> 
> Hey, it’s Freud here, I grabbed the keyboard (stop pouting, Winged, you’ll get to finish your note in a second), and speaking of crazy, we need to address how we’re choosing to deal with Artemis’s Atlantis Complex here. We honestly flip-flopped a couple of times over whether or not to include it in this fic and if we should mention it in this episode; there was a lot of debate back and forth over the past few months. At one point, we even wrote a fic in which the entire thing was an especially vivid drug-induced and Opal-orchestrated hallucination (“I Know What You Squid Last Night,” for anybody following along). 
> 
> We ultimately decided to tackle the issue (and find a better resolution for it) because it’s there in canon. It’s important. It’s relevant to the story we want to tell, and it was dealt with horribly in books seven and eight. This doesn’t mean we intend to dwell on this topic in the future in this fic. Please don’t worry: this is not going to become a story about the Atlantis Complex. It is, however, a story in which it happened. The illness and healing affects how we write both Holly and Artemis, as well as the dynamic between them. It also impacts the more technical ways in which we deal with Arty’s prior exposures to magic, and how that plays out in the episodes to come.
> 
> And okay, fine. One of my majors was psychology, and I couldn’t in good conscience leave it alone.
> 
> My point is, highest recorded IQ in Europe or not, you don’t simply decide to think yourself out of a mental illness and then instantly get better. That’s not how it works. Not even for Artemis Fowl. I’ve got a lot of thoughts on this -- feel free to PM if you want to discuss further and I’ll be more than happy to elaborate -- but it boils down to this: recovery is tough. 
> 
> And mental illness doesn’t conveniently go away just because the story needs it to. 
> 
> (Unless you’ve got magic. Or magical friends, as the case may be. Thanks, Holly -- I don’t think anybody could have handled another book full of Orion.) -- Freud
> 
> \-- here. Crazy up in here. Is what I was saying. But yes, ditto to everything Freud just said. Really, more authors need a handy psychology major as a friend. Buy them a couple of mojitos and suddenly you’re learning more about the human brain than you ever wanted to know. Did you know the hippocampus is shaped like a seahorse? Because I now know that if you pull the hippocampus out of someone’s head and dehydrate the thing, it curls up at the ends to look like a seahorse. Weird, right? 
> 
> Anyway, thank you as always to everyone who’s stuck around all through our unexpected hiatuses. Also welcome to all the new readers we’ve gained during the break! This time, we’ve waited to get the finale written as well before posting this one so you don’t have to wait another year to find out how the season wraps up! (Say whaaat.) 
> 
> Which means give us a couple of days, and we’ll have another episode posted! We hope you enjoy the ride! -- Winged


	17. A Unit of Collapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 2.07: A season finale in which chaos ensues: someone sings, someone gets punched, someone joins a small but noble club, and everything's on fire. And then things go from bad to worse.

Everything was on fire.

Holly could only be thankful that she'd already landed on the top of the ski-lift shack and removed her helmet when the communications system within exploded into a lively ball of fire. She might have felt more worried, except this wasn't the first time her helmet had blown up. It wasn't even the second. Thinking about it, Holly felt she ought to be relieved that her head hadn't exploded at some point along with tech. Instead, she found herself planning the lecture she'd give whoever was responsible for this once she returned belowground.

It would more likely be Foaly, she decided as she watched the flames spread out along the roof. Still, too early to rule anybody out just yet.

It was actually a fairly impressive fire. The roof was already crackling merrily, the flames licking at the metal structure that formed one end of the chair lift. Holly admired the colours briefly before it occurred to her that she should probably move to a safe distance; luckily, her wings still worked even without the helmet and she was able to find a new perch on a fence further down the hill.

Minerva stepped out of the shadows. "What a subtle entrance. I presume that was meant as some sort of distraction?"

"Sure," said Holly, before squinting at the girl. "Wait, how did you know I was here? I'm still shielded."

The Changeling tapped at the Google Glass clipped to her glasses. Holly recalled seeing the same attachment on Dorian's, and then remembered Artemis mentioning something about where Google had first gotten the idea for the technology - he'd mentioned having to reverse engineer one of his own inventions down to meet current human technological standards before he could sell the patent. _Of course Google Glass is his fault - of course he originally designed it to see through shields. I'm not even sure why I'm surprised._

She snatched the clip from Minerva's glasses and tossed the technology into a snowbank before consciously registering that there was smoke coming from it, too.

"Excuse me!" yelped Minerva, right before the snowbank exploded. Slush went everywhere.

"That rules out an accidental tech malfunction," said Holly. "Something is attacking fairy technology. Even what little of it has made its way into human products."

"It's the Techno-Crash all over again," Minerva surmised. "You need to get to Fowl Manor."

Holly was already activating her wings. Then she stopped. "Hold on. What about Saul?"

A frustrated expression crossed the girl's face as she pulled her cell phone from her jacket's pocket. "Something has been blocking my cell reception since I've arrived. I'm fairly certain this was merely a set-up, likely to get you out of the way of whatever _that,_ " she gestured up the hill at the growing blaze, "is about."

Holly wavered. "I'll help you find Saul before I go. It might look like a set-up but there's still the possibility that the kidnapper is just trying to get rid of any outside help. I'm not leaving you here alone if your boyfriend really is tied up in a closet. But let's work fast, because I've got a feeling I'm needed in Ireland right now."

-x-

After an hour in the air, Dorian was still trying to get up to speed. "You're both a pilot and a mechanic. You have six toes - I saw when you took your shoe off. That burn on your heel looks nasty, by the way, you should get that looked at. The mob is terrified of you. And your six year-old brother blew up our phones as well as every other bit of aboveground fairy communication tech you've tried to reach so far."

Sitting in the cockpit of Dorian's plane with his hands at the controls, Artemis did not look up from the instrument panel as he replied, "None of those are technically questions, but yes on all counts."

"You have six toes."

"Yes, I do."

"Somehow, that's the thing I'm getting stuck on."

"And somehow, I'm sure that polydactylism is not our biggest problem at the moment."

"Also, don't think I didn't notice that the fairy has one of your eyes. That's _creepy._ Or maybe it's kind of sweet. I'm not sure. Depends on the kind of relationship between you two, I guess. I got the impression you go back a long ways, anyway. How'd it happen?" Dorian wondered if there was potential for a song somewhere among all these misplaced and altered body parts. It might be some kind of metaphor. He was sure that, once he'd gotten over the trauma of the last few hours, there'd be plenty of inspiration to mine from this entire string of events. Maybe even a whole album. The 'Juliet' song was coming along nicely and had all the makings of a hit, for sure. He had a sense about this kind of thing. Dorian hummed under his breath.

Artemis finally lifted his hand, flourishing his abnormally long index finger in the general direction of the humming. "This one isn't right either, one of my eyes used to be hazel, I have the immune system and drug tolerance of a two year-old, and I also lack a belly button. Come to think of it, one might have some degree of success arguing that I am no longer wholly human. Can we move on, please?"

It took Dorian one moment to unpack what he was hearing, and another to comprehend what he was seeing. And then the meaning of the hand gesture hit him. "Rude." He took another sip of his drink. "So, what's our play, then? We have any idea what we're walking into? I guess you and this Jones guy have history?"

"He blames me for the death of his friend."

Dorian gave a low whistle. It was an especially melodic whistle, perfectly in-tune with the song unfolding in his head. "And now he's gone after your baby brother? How did -?"

"He had been mind-wiped." Artemis grimaced. "Apparently it didn't stick."

The pop star hummed again, rocking back in his seat. "I've heard that can happen. Does this mean that I get to keep my memories now, if I help you out here? Can we work out a deal like that?"

"If I said yes, would you believe me?"

"I'd pretend to, if it makes you feel better, but we'd both know I'd be trying to find a way out of it anyways," Dorian responded, tugging a hand back through his hair to push his side-swept bangs out of his face. "We'll call that one a stalemate for now, then. And if it helps your planning at all, I'm pretty sure that whatever kind of distraction you need, I can cook one up."

"And how exactly do you intend to do that?" asked Artemis through clenched teeth. He'd visualized eighteen different potential scenarios so far, and none of them had worked out well. It was the travel time; seven hours from St Petersburg to Dublin (six, if the modifications he'd made to the plane's engine before taking off actually functioned as intended for the entire trip). There were too many unknowns, and no way to know for sure what was happening on the ground. Nobody at the manor had responded to any of his attempts to make contact thus far. His fingers tightened on the controls.

In reassurance, Dorian flashed the kind of smile that had graced the cover of many a teen magazine. "That part, at least, I've got under control. Apollo, my friend, _never_ underestimate the power of an army of fangirls."

"It's Artemis."

"I like Apollo better. More musical. Bonus: it's actually a boy's name."

-x-

The situation belowground was chaos. Worse than chaos. At least most chaos doesn't have the fate of an entire society riding on its ability to somehow resolve itself into coherent order.

It had started with the entire city going into lockdown. Lights had gone off. The magnetic roadway had shut down. The giant metal doors had crashed down, shutting the city off from the outside world. It was not a flood. It was not a quarantine.

"It's the Techno-Crash all over again," was the gist of Foaly's frantic briefing. "Our technology has been compromised aboveground. None of the fairy ports are shielded anymore. The humans can look out their windows and see us! The only thing that saved us last time was the Crash being universal - for every bit of tech we lost, they lost any advantage they could have taken from it. We don't have that now. Look - you guys are smart, you figure out the security side of things, keep us in lockdown so we're not broadcasting anything from belowground in addition to the stuff that's visible on the surface, I need to get back to trying to figure out where this is even coming from. Whoever did it, they're clever. It's looped back to look like it's coming out of our own systems!"

Caltrop blinked, his heart sinking. "It's not - glub - not coming from Russia, is it?" he blurted. As the senior member of LEPfoul in the absence of both Holly and Artemis, he was the one attending the security briefing. For once, Caltrop was not enjoying the responsibility. The room was stuffed full of Council members and captains of the LEP, and every single head swivelled his way. The water sprite shrank down in his seat. "It's just… um… a hunch."

Foaly clenched his jaw. "Out of curiosity, and this is a purely hypothetical question not intended to throw any doubt upon anybody's actions or potential involvement in this current world-shaking crisis… the last time you heard from Fowl and Short, where were they?"

"Um. Glub. St. Petersburg?" said Caltrop.

"Which is in Russia," finished Commander Kelp, rubbing his forehead with his palm. "Do we know why neither of them has checked in?"

Caltrop realized this was another question he was supposed to answer. "Because you turned off the power? Glub. S-sir?"

Later, Caltrop would be on the receiving end of a long dressing-down for his sass in a time of crisis. Apparently there was "more than enough of that to go around already" in the LEPfoul office and the Commander "expected better from him." If Kelp were to spend the entire lecture internally laughing himself silly over his colleague's ability to turn even the meekest of water sprites into a full-fledged banter-spewing machine, it would go over Caltrop's head completely.

For the moment, however, there were bigger things to worry about.

Foaly threw up his hands in exasperation. "Maybe they're busy saving the world again! Who knows! I'm sure we'll get them to use that algorithm the human wrote to compose wonderful reports about it later, and some of them might even be true! Do you need me for anything else, or can I get back to trying to keep our society from collapsing?"

The lights chose that moment to turn back on. Every eye in the room shot upwards.

"Somebody's lifted the lockdown," said Cahartez around a mouthful of curry, a tad unnecessarily. "Who has the authority to do that? I assume all those people would be in this one room?"

Several hands raised, Foaly and Kelp's among them.

Cahartez swallowed. "I'm going to hate myself for asking this, but who actually lifted the lockdown?"

All hands fell, Foaly's landing directly on his keyboard to tap away furiously.

"Centaur," said Trouble, his voice dark. "Who lifted the lockdown?"

"Uh hum. Me, apparently. But I didn't. It's saying I did." Foaly swished his tail impatiently. "That's strange. Huh." He pressed a button.

All lights flickered off.

"There, see? Nothing to worry about. Just a computer bug. Perfectly -"

All lights came back on.

"Oh dear," said Foaly. "That's not good."

-x-

Surprising everybody, Sass had showed up at the office that morning on time and with her hair dyed a modest shade of taupe. Dodo had even dared hope, for the first time ever, that they might have finally been on-track towards making a proper agent out of her.

Of course, in hindsight, they would all later agree that it could have just been the first and most improbable sign of some kind of apocalypse.

The emergency lockdown hit, the lights went off, and it turned out her hair glowed in the dark. This was just as well, as they needed every source of light they could get. She announced proudly that the dye she had chosen used the same magical and chemical reactions as dwarf spit, hence the spectacular degree of luminescence. At that point, Mulch immediately excused himself from the room, said he had more important problems to deal with, and then proceeded to not come back.

Time passed.

"See?" said Sass after an hour of darkness, flipping her unexpectedly useful hair over her shoulder as she bent down to help Dodo search for a tablet she'd set down at some point before the lockdown had started, "You need me here."

The lockdown chose that moment to lift, rendering her hair respectable once more. Dodo gave a cry of triumph upon seeing the errant tablet sitting on Holly's desk. This was exactly where it should have been, and so of course the last place anyone had thought to look.

That was when Terrell chose to gallop into the office at high speed, slamming into Dodo's desk in his haste. Fish went flying. Dodo winced, and Sass hooted in amusement. Had Caltrop been there, he would have cried in horror, salvaged what he could, and then insisted on holding a funeral for any of his fallen brethren.

Maise, from her hiding place in the closet at the back of the room, poked her head out at the commotion and then retreated quickly, taking a moment to be grateful that Caltrop wasn't there.

Terrell untangled himself from the mess he'd created and held both hands up in surrender. "I want it on the record," he declared, "That we hacketers had nothing to do with this."

Everyone stared.

"The Reveal, I mean. We didn't do that. The fish, yeah. That was on me. I'll replace them. Even though you still haven't given us back our hamster."

"I thought we'd established that your group has been working specifically to cause a humans-meet-fairies scenario," Dodo said suspiciously. "That was the purpose behind helping the Changelings hack into our servers, steal fairy blueprints, and release a song in Gnommish."

Sass was less willing to negotiate. "Get. Out!"

The lights slammed off again.

"We didn't really think we'd be _successful,"_ Terrell protested. "Besides, the song hasn't happened. Your people keep getting in our way! And all this lockdown was definitely _not_ our fault. We never wanted the world to end - we just wanted to change it!" He stamped a hoof to the ground to emphasise his point, and then added as a side thought, "Nice hair, by the way."

He then quickly sidetrotted out of the way, and Sass learned that it is much more difficult to successfully headbutt someone when your glowing head is the only thing your victim can see. She piled into the reinforced windowpane with a thump and a yelp, her glowing hair telegraphing her movements as she physically bounced backwards from the force of the impact.

The lights came back on as she was staggering back to her feet. "Well," she grumbled, tugging at her traitorous hair with a glower. "If you're here and you don't mean any harm, then you should pull up a terminal and find a way to help. We can't stop this, but if we've got our systems online, maybe we can keep some control over what our Changeling friends are able to get up to in the meantime."

Considering that the alternative option likely involved another attempted headbutt, it wasn't a difficult choice to make.

-x-

By the time the private plane touched down in Dublin, it was too late. The damage had already been done.

"Huh, that's interesting," said Dorian as Artemis argued at the Customer Service desk of the private airfield. Apparently, it was difficult for the officials to understand that this new jet did not actually belong to Artemis Fowl - unlike most aircrafts he flew - and that he didn't actually have the time to fill out all the paperwork and wait in the terminal for the corresponding six hours for it to be processed. He was fondly remembering the time Dodo had merely punched him at the terminal gate in Haven before letting him through, and was seriously considering offering to let Karen the customer service representative take a swing if it would make the process any faster.

"So interesting," repeated Dorian, getting the sense that Artemis wasn't paying attention to him. He followed up the statement by nudging Artemis in the ribs with the rounded top of his guitar case - the case was slightly singed, but he'd had plenty of time on the plane ride over to be sure that the instrument inside had been unharmed by the blaze. He'd also managed to mostly finish composing his concept album about this entire ordeal. He thanked his lucky stars he'd been able to rush back into the burning safehouse and grab it before the heat had done any damage to the wood. "That affects us, right?"

Reluctantly, Artemis followed the pop star's pointed finger to the tv in the corner of the room. A news station was currently reporting on the apparent materialization of an entire civilization living beneath the surface of the Earth.

The words died in Artemis's throat.

Luckily, the significance of this moment seemed to be absolutely lost on Dorian. "Like, that's definitely our problem, right? By the way, I'm kind of peeved - you were so concerned about me, y'know, _not_ making this happen when clearly somebody wanted the cat out of the bag anyways? Magic cats. Huh. Maybe there's a lyric in there, too."

Artemis gave him a _Look_. "Stop. Talking." After a moment he added, with a tight-lipped grimace, "Please."

Dorian went cold, and then squeaked.

Artemis turned back to the customer service representative. "Let us leave without filling out the paperwork, hold the plane here in the meantime, and I will personally make sure your cousin Timothy does not see any time for what he's done."

Two minutes later, they were climbing into the back seat of Karen's car. Artemis was busy doing a search on the woman's phone, which he'd quietly palmed back at the desk. She hadn't yet noticed. "St. Stephen's Green," he told her.

Dorian, guitar wedged awkwardly across his lap in the confined backseat of the car, was wondering if it was safe to talk again. He decided to turn his attention to making friends with their new driver instead of provoking someone that had scared off the Russian Mafiya without looking half as intimidating as he did now. "So Karen… what did Timothy do?"

Unfortunately, it was Artemis that answered without looking up from the phone, "Something that his family deeply regrets."

"Ah," said Dorian. He glanced at the phone and saw that Artemis was looking at the satellite image of the park they were driving towards. "Why are we going to a park, anyway?"

"It's where Becquerel Jones is," Artemis said, manipulating the satellite feed with a swipe of his thumb and holding up the screen to display a glowing red dot. "He's able to run his override program without entering the Fowl Manor grounds, which means he's gotten my brother to give him remote access. My security gives him a limited geographic range to use that access from. By now, Foaly will have figured out that this signal is being routed through my servers, anyways - he'll have sent somebody to investigate it and shut it down on the ground. We need to get to the real source. Luckily, Jones is not stupid enough to make direct contact with my family, which means Myles had no idea what he was dealing with. He can't -" Artemis broke off, and then tackled the sentence again. "He can't have done this on purpose."

Presumably, there was a lot of technical reasoning behind pinpointing this exact location, but Dorian didn't bother to ask. Even though he was vaguely interested in exactly how his new ally had managed to take consumer-level technology and override military satellites with it in under a minute, he knew now was not quite the best time. "Big park. Public place. Lots of people. This Jones guy is probably counting on that to protect him. Sounds like you could use a distraction to flush him out, Apollo."

Artemis blinked. Dorian, feeling brave, took the chance to swipe the phone from his hand and press the button on the bottom to close whatever illicit program his new friend had been running. He opened Twitter instead.

-x-

dormaslov

dublin, I am in you! looking for a place to hang out w my guitar #justsayin

dormaslov

what the hey, it sounds like i'll be swinging by st stephens green in an hour! See you there? #surprise #dorianjams

-x-

"See?" Dorian said. After taking a moment to follow Karen's Twitter feed from his account, he reached over the guitar case and dropping the phone back into Artemis's lap - he'd considered giving it back to the poor, silent driver, but Artemis scared him more. "You've got your distraction. Whatever you want to pull, I guarantee nobody will notice."

"Oh?"

"Oh, definitely." He smirked and waved a careless hand. "Apollo, I'm already trending."

-x-

As it turned out, Artemis had been wrong on one crucial count: while Bec hadn't made direct contact with his family, he had been more than happy to send somebody else to do it for him.

Raimo Eskola was proud of this particular disguise. It was one thing to change his own appearance to make himself unrecognizable or create consistent personas for himself, but it was another thing entirely to mimic another person. For starters, Artemis Fowl was two inches taller than him. His posture was more rigid than Ray's own, hairline much sharper, skin much paler. On his pilot's license, it listed his eye color as both blue and hazel - it had taken a rather intensive investigation to turn up the two year-old color photograph that had told Ray which was which.

All things considered, Ray felt he was right to be proud. In fact, his disguise had turned out well enough to fool Artemis's own mother.

"Oh, Arty! I didn't know you were going to be home today!" she had said upon meeting him in the hall as Ray searched for Artemis's study.

Ray's heart had skipped, but he made his face look sufficiently annoyed to pass inspection. "No, I'm home and working on a project with Myles today. I told you that last week. Don't you remember?"

Angeline pursed her lips. "No, I must have forgotten. How nice of you, taking an interest in encouraging your brother's experiments. You know how most of them go over my head."

If this had been actually Artemis speaking with his mother, he would likely have flashed back to the scorpion incident and taken the opportunity to suggest that perhaps Angeline take a bit more active role in monitoring her son's activities. Ray, however, simply smiled. "That's what I'm here for, mom."

_Mom_. That should have been another alarm bell for Angeline. Instead, she beamed with pride and let him pass right by.

Now, Ray was holed up inside Artemis's study. He'd already completed his main role in setting up the remote bypass access system to give Bec the ability to run his own program off the Fowl servers. Ray hadn't been entirely sure what that program was supposed to do, but Becquerel had insisted it was incredibly important if they were to ever get the answers they needed. Myles had given him the passcode to access the computer upon boot; from there, the proxy was easy enough to install from a disc Becquerel had given him. He'd also set up a secondary program to use military satellites to take the magical energy readings that Myles had wanted; they were filtering happily through the wireless network directly to the boy's cell phone.

Now, all Ray had to do was babysit. Make sure the information kept flowing, make sure the program kept running, wiggle the mouse every now and then so the automated screensaver didn't kick in.

That was all he _had_ to do. But while he was here, there were some mysteries he rather wanted to solve. And with access open to a majority of the Fowl servers, now was the perfect time to poke around.

For starters, he ran a full system text search: "Gaudi + magic + mosaic."

The results, when they began to flood in, were _fascinating_.

-x-

The last time Artemis had heard so much screaming, a rogue canary had swooped through Police Plaza. The time before that had involved a demon materialization in the middle of Barcelona. Although, come to think of it, neither of those times had involved _quite_ as much screaming as now. His ears hurt.

The source of the sound was, of course, Dorian's rabid and adoring fanbase. From the second the pop star's tweet had hit the web, teenage girls had followed the call to flow steadily into St. Stephen's Green despite the drizzling rain. Now, they were packed into the space like sardines in a can. Screaming sardines bearing glitter-glue posters and homemade commemorative t-shirts. Of all the disasters Artemis had had a hand in engineering over the years, he was certain this was the worst.

Dorian and Artemis stood on the street opposite the park and stared at the chaos. Despite being so clued in to social media, Artemis wondered if any of them had any idea that there was an actual global crisis currently unfolding.

"Oh, of course they do," Dorian had told him after Artemis voiced this particular concern. "I'm currently trending in the number three spot. Numbers one and two are hashtag magic and hashtag fairies. And number four is hashtag not a hoax. Number five is related to the new game show premiering right now in the States. Number six is a promoted hashtag about that game show, which means that most of the tweets under number five are probably people complaining about the fact that Twitter wants to talk about game shows rather than fairies. Number seven is hashtag replace a movie title with fairy."

Artemis turned and stared, raising a single eyebrow.

"You know, that Twitter game? Where you get awesome examples like "Close Encounters of the Fairy Kind" and "Lord of the Fairies: The Return of the Magic."" He looked down at the phone again. "Oh, "Fairy Wars: A New Wing" - that's a good one. "Silence of the Fairies!" Ha. "Fairy Flew Over the Human's Nest" and "Gnome Cassidy and the Sundance Fairy" are great too. Wow, I love this game!" He glanced back up. "Why am I getting the feeling you haven't seen any of those movies before?"

Artemis didn't answer.

Dorian pouted, and then a determined look crossed his face. "It's okay, we can fix that. Anyways, I'd been hoping that getting shot at a few hours ago would make me stick at number two for at least a little while longer. My publicist is not going to be impressed. Still, we've got a good crowd here - plenty of distraction for you to work with!"

For all the effort that Artemis had put into saving humanity over the years, he found himself vaguely disappointed that, upon the discovery of a magical race living under their feet, the average human being took to the internet to play Twitter games. Apparently the rest were here to see Dorian play guitar. Suddenly he empathized quite strongly with Holly's stance on the intelligence of Mud Men in general.

The thought of Holly was a reminder to focus on the task at hand. "Time to do your job," Artemis told the pop star as he plucked the phone back. "I'll go find Becquerel Jones."

Dorian nodded briskly, brandishing his guitar as though it were a weapon. "I'll make sure the crowd doesn't notice a thing. Best of luck, Apollo!"

As he turned away to skip across the street and into the fray, Artemis could have sworn he heard Dorian chuckle to himself again. ""Fairy: The Under-Terrestrial." You're funny, Karen! Totally re-tweeting that one!"

-x-

Caltrop walked in to find a flurry of activity in the LEPfoul office. Also more people than he had expected - along with the usual operatives, the marketers from downstairs had apparently made themselves at home. Along one wall a plasma screen displayed rolling updates on the situation aboveground, as well as a number of human news stations; various computers and devices were ticking away under the careful command of their owners, and the room had - for all intents and purposes - been transformed completely into a crisis response center. The marketers had brought anything useful they could salvage upstairs, taking up every table and chair they could find (and some pieces of furniture that were neither table nor chair had found themselves conscripted into service, too - Caltrop noticed the inflatable strawberry currently being used by a pixie as a footstool). Dodo was walking between the desks, bending to peer at screens and give the occasional piece of advice or input. Maise had made herself useful, too: as the only intern in the room, she'd taken it upon herself to ensure every workstation was well-stocked with coffee, healthy snacks, and water. Icky was valiantly _thump-thumping_ around the room, proclaiming encouragements to anyone he passed and occasionally projecting information onto any empty patches of wall upon request.

"Oh," he squeaked, pausing on the threshold. "You - glub - you guys are already up to speed on this - this situation, then?"

The centaur nearest him turned and flashed a familiar grin. It was Sass; he hadn't recognized her at first due to her unnaturally natural shade of hair. "Welcome back, shrimp! Grab a seat."

"S-S-Sass?" He blinked. "What's - blub - happening?"

"Cat's out of the bag, so we're working!" she said with relish, trotting across the room. Caltrop followed at a slight distance. "Our marketer friends already have direct lines of communication on a lot of the Changelings, we've got trackers on pretty much everybody at this point, and there isn't really anything any of those kids could do now that we won't notice. See, there!" She pointed at a momentary red spike on the situation wall. As Caltrop watched, it faded quickly back to a content shade of green. "Augustus Montgomery, over in Wales, just sneezed. Gesundheit, buddy."

"We're monitoring _everything,_ dude!" added Icky, nearly rolling onto Caltrop's foot. "Big Brother is watching!"

"Um," said Caltrop, not entirely sure that Icky was drawing the most moral comparison. "Everybody?"

"Well," Icky said, his voice modulation fizzling a bit as he drew out the word. "Everybody we can. I mean, there's ones we're not allowed anywhere near - got pulled off the Jones case, remember? And Fowl's tracker blew up. So did Dorian's, but he's all over twitter so we're good on that front, we know everything he's up to - ooh, he just sneezed, too! Three different people tweeted about it. So there's that."

"Aren't we using the instructions Artemis left us?"

Dodo lifted her head. "No, his tracker's offline. What are you talking about?"

Caltrop scurried across the room to Artemis's desk and opened the bottom drawer. The only thing in there was a silver attache case with a fancy keypad lock. Caltrop placed the case on the surface of the desk, typed in the six-digit combination that all LEPfoul operatives were supposed to know (but that had probably long-since been forgotten by everyone else) and lifted the lid reverently. Inside lay a paper manual on a fitted cushion.

"Oh," said Dodo.

"Wow," said Sass.

"Amaaaaazing, dude," said Icky, rolling along the floor to catch up. "What are we looking at? It's totally offline, I had no clue this thing existed!"

"I'm pretty sure - glub - that was the point," said Caltrop, taking the manual out of the briefcase. He opened the cover and skimmed the contingency plan Artemis had outlined. "Okay, team. We have w-w-work to do!"

-x-

Becquerel had chosen the park for its public access, central location, and the relative anonymity it afforded him. There were enough people around that he felt secure against attack from either human or fairy, and enough of them were tourists that he was sure nobody would remember him with any particular clarity. His laptop was open on his lap with a cord running to a portable charger hidden inside the backpack at his feet, and a hood was pulled over his head to ward against drizzling rain and the occasional tourist's camera. For the last several hours, he'd been monitoring the progress of his program. While attacking fairy security had been impossible from the outside, while routed through the Fowl servers it was easy enough to wreak all kinds of havoc. Artemis's systems were tangled up so fully with the LEP's that gaining direct entry to one provided easy backdoor access to the other.

It had been simple enough from there. Fry any aboveground communications and shielding (literally fry, in some very specific cases that most certainly deserved it), prevent the People from locking down their own broadcasting, and then let human satellites, radar, and intelligence agencies do the rest of the work for him.

His phone buzzed at his side to let him know that eighteen of his mutual Twitter followers were now posting about the same topic: " _#replaceamovietitlewithfairy_."

_Close enough_. He wished Demia were here to see this.

Two girls sat down on the bench beside him. They were both squealing. Bec gave them a dirty look, but they didn't seem to notice - wearing matching t-shirts, they were gushing about some unprecedented event, something that they hadn't expected to see within their lifetimes.

"The fairies?" he asked, pleased despite himself.

The girl closest to him crinkled her nose in disgust. "Ew, no. The concert, stupid!"

"The concert?" repeated Bec, noticing for the first time just how busy the park had gotten over the last hour. Teenage girls were everywhere, standing in a packed crowd with the occasional sibling or parental escort hovering awkwardly nearby. Bec lowered his modified noise-cancelling headphones and realized that what he'd thought was the buzz of electrical interference was actually a roar of excited screams. The girls on the bench beside him joined in the chorus, and Bec flinched.

Suddenly there was a screech of feedback. An enhanced voice boomed out over the noise: "Hellooooooo Dublin!" Bec could practically hear the extra exclamation points. There was a pause as the crowd went nuts. "I'm Dorian, and we're gonna make some magic happen here tonight!"

Another surge of screams answered him before, finally, the crowd began to hush in anticipation. Over the makeshift speaker system came the casual strumming of an acoustic guitar. A moment later, the singing started.

It took Bec half a minute to realize that the melodic verse was in Gnommish.

_Okay,_ he thought, _that would be my cue to leave._

Swiftly, Bec closed the laptop and stuffed it into his backpack before swinging the bag over his shoulder. There were so many girls everywhere that it actually took several minutes of bobbing and weaving to make his way to the main gate, panting and out of breath. He broke from the crowd with a muttered swear and a shove, and hit the pavement running.

Half a block away, Artemis lowered the phone from his ear and followed at a slightly more leisurely pace.

-x-

There was a window in Artemis's study that desperately needed repair. Weather had shrunken the frame over the years until it no longer fit flush against the pane of glass. Upon applying a precise amount of pressure against the spot in the upper corner where a nail had started to come loose, the bottom edge would spring free just far enough to allow somebody with particularly tiny fingers to reach through and undo the latch on the inside.

Artemis had no intention of replacing that window - indeed, he had deliberately disabled the alarm system that was supposed to secure it against exactly that kind of intrusion. Being three floors up and not a visible weakness, the ease of access it afforded Holly to the manor was more than worth any potential security concern.

It took Holly all of thirty seconds to get inside the study. Usually she was much faster; today she was in a hurry, and had slammed the glass down over her knuckles twice in her haste.

"D'arvit," she muttered as she jumped down into the room, sparks dancing across her fingers. She looked across the room, registered the figure seated at the desk with his back turned to her, and frowned. "Arty? How did you even get here so fast? Wait, don't answer that - it was fast, so it was probably illegal. I don't want to know. Have you figured out yet how to fix this?"

The person at the desk shrugged, not speaking. Holly scowled.

"Artemis, _tell me_ you have a plan to fix this. And pass me a communicator while you're at it - mine got destroyed at the lodge."

Her friend sounded tense, even considering the situation at hand. "How was the lodge?"

Holly groaned and stalked over the desk to fetch a new communicator for herself, since Artemis clearly had no intention of helping her. "Saul is fine, it was a distraction, and we have way bigger issues. Like the fact that fairies are on CNN right now!" She yanked open the drawer where she knew Artemis kept the fairy tech that he was definitely not supposed to have, jammed her thumb against the disguised scanner in the bottom of the drawer, and pulled up the false panel after it clicked and glowed faintly green. _Smart Mud Boy_ , _giving me access._

After selecting a comm at random, she glared up at the human.

And froze.

"CNN?" he repeated, mismatched eyes wide with interest.

Things happened quickly after that. Holly's fist shot out to make contact with the human's nose with such force that he flailed backwards to land on the floor. He'd barely landed before she'd jumped over the chair in a flying take-down to press a knee to his trachea, her full weight to his chest, and a blaster to his forehead.

" _Where is Artemis Fowl?"_ she demanded, emphasizing her point by jabbing the weapon at his temple with each syllable.

Ray whimpered. "It's - it's m - me - ?" he attempted, trying to talk around both the overwhelming terror and the pressure against his windpipe.

She jabbed at him again, nowhere close to fooled. "I won't ask a second time."

At this point, Ray joined the small but noble club of those who had wet themselves upon facing the wrath of the LEP's fiercest agent. "Alright! He's… he's still in Russia. I… think? I didn't hurt him? Didn't… even meet him. Ever."

The elf glowered.

"I promise! W- we waited until he was nowhere near here!"

"We?" Holly repeated ominously.

"Me and - and Myles and - and Becquerel - ?"

At that moment, a giant hand closed around the back collar of her suit and lifted Holly off her prey. The collar tightened around her throat and she gasped, writhing to break free as another hand prised the neutrino from her fist. "Butler," she hissed, thrashing.

Later, it would be a matter of much debate who exactly had won that encounter. The only thing everyone could agree on was that it was not Ray. Either Butler had dropped Holly of his own volition or she had broken his grip and freed herself; no matter which option was correct, teeth had definitely been involved.

Holly landed hard enough on Ray that he expelled an audible _whoof_ from his lungs and spent the next few minutes gasping for breath. By the time he was cognisant of his surroundings once more, the elf and the massive human seemed to have settled their differences; at first Ray thought they were shaking hands in agreement, and then he saw the blue sparks that skipped from her fingertips to the broken and bloodied skin on Butler's hand.

"Instinct," she was explaining, not all that apologetically. "Sorry about that."

Butler nodded in understanding, cracking his knuckles. "No need to apologize. All is forgiven. So, what have we here?"

In unison, they turned to appraise Ray. "That's not Artemis," Holly said, folding her arms over her chest.

"Clearly not," Butler agreed, extending a newly-healed hand to help Ray to his feet. Under the circumstances, Ray couldn't exactly refuse the offer. "He appears to have wet himself."

-x-

Five minutes later, Ray was seated miserably at a chair in the Fowl kitchen and attempting to avoid the double glare of Artemis's most terrifying defenders. "I was just watching the computer. I don't really even know what it does."

Holly rolled her eyes. "You know something, though. Otherwise you wouldn't have agreed to help. Butler, I really think I should -"

"You can't put him under the _mesmer_ ," the bodyguard said for the third time in as many minutes. "If humans now know about the People, the last thing you need is the kind of publicity that comes along with mind control."

Holly knew he was right, but was still having trouble wrapping her head around the end of the world as she knew it. Part of her was still certain that once she found Artemis, he'd have a plan to fix everything. After all, that was what he did. Their ragtag team of misfits had pulled through far more dangerous adventures that had done far less lasting damage to the world. But she was also aware of just how much time had passed since the fairy defences had gone down, and was beginning to get an idea of exactly how much publicity this breach of security had gotten.

Mind-wiping a few humans was no big deal - it happened all the time. A town full of them, possible but difficult. She remembered back to the Hamburg incident and shuddered. But an entire planet?

It might be too much of a miracle to hope for, this time. That morning, her biggest problem had been her roommate building a sentient drink dispenser out of her old kitchen appliances without asking first if she minded his particular take on "recycling." Now, everything she knew was falling apart. _Things were going too well_ , she thought to herself, tapping her hand four times against the barrel of her gun. _I should have expected disaster - I did expect disaster, sooner or later. He did, too._

_But I didn't think it would happen like this._

At least the suggested possibility of the _mesmer_ was unnerving Ray just as much as Holly and Butler combined. "I really don't know! It was just some program that Becquerel was running. Myles let me in, in exchange for me getting some numbers for him, too. He's working on something and needed it to happen at the same time as Bec's program. Honestly, I didn't really ask many questions? I just - look, I found this thing on a wall in Barcelona and I wanted answers about it. That's all I'm here for. I was kinda using them as an excuse to get in here, I guess? Would have felt weird breaking in for my own reasons, but it's fine if I'm doing it to help somebody else, right?"

They glared. Ray wilted.

"Okay. Maybe I should feel bad about that."

Butler glowered. "I told him Barcelona would come back to haunt us."

"So did I," grumbled Holly. Now that she was certain Artemis was not in immediate danger, she felt less guilty about cursing his name. She turned back to Ray, snapping. "Changeling. What is Myles working on?"

"Something with energy readings? The, uh, the magic ones," Ray added apologetically. "Truth be told, I didn't really believe in this magic stuff? I thought there was a totally reasonable explanation. Something mathy, maybe. That's what Maeve said it was. But it still seemed like there was something more going on? I dunno. I just couldn't bring myself to let it go once I thought of it." He paused. "Wait, what did you call me?"

"Of course you couldn't," she growled, her internal monologue shifting from cursing Artemis specifically to cursing Changelings in general. "Where is Myles now?"

Ray shrugged helplessly, accepting that his last question was not about to be answered at any point in the near future. "Somewhere on the grounds? He said he wasn't actually leaving so he didn't need any escort?"

Butler stood up. "I'll take care of the computer in the study and shut that program down. Holly, you can find Myles faster if you take to the air."

Holly nodded and activated her wings. From his spot on the chair, Ray piped up as he realized that his window of opportunity was closing. "Erm. Elf? Holly - is that your name?"

She hovered by the window. "Talk fast."

"Can I just ask - look, it's going to bug me if I don't. What gave my disguise away? I fooled his mom just fine, but you knew immediately! I didn't even really _say_ anything!"

The others exchanged a meaningful, exasperated look. "The eyes," Holly said, gesturing to her own. "The eyes weren't right. His are both this colour." She winked the blue one in emphasis.

Ray's jaw dropped. "But how - eyes don't just - ?"

"Magic," she said with a smirk. And with that parting remark, Holly waved goodbye and shimmered out of sight.

-x-

Becquerel ducked into the first cafe he saw, quickly ordering a small coffee and finding an empty table as close to the back as possible to set up his laptop. For a moment, it appeared that all was well - the fairy defenses were still down, and the manor proxy was still functioning exactly as intended.

He rolled his shoulders and cricked his neck, getting ready to unleash even more digital havoc.

Then, with little fanfare and even less explanation, the connection abruptly dropped.

-x-

Back in Fowl manor, Butler had given up on stopping the program with any kind of elegance.

Instead, he'd simply pulled the plug on the entire server. Artemis, he was certain, would eventually forgive him.

-x-

Bec looked up from his laptop to find he was no longer alone at his table.

"Hello, Becquerel Jones," said Artemis Fowl with his best vampire grin. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your choice."

They were both surprised when Bec's thrown punch missed by half an inch. For a second neither genius moved, Bec's arm outstretched and Artemis's spine pressed as far back in his chair as physically possible.

Then Bec resorted to Plan B. He shoved at the table with his knees, pushing it upwards. Both his hands caught the edge of the table and helped it on its journey towards Artemis's face. Computer went flying, along with coffee. Bec stood up abruptly, trying to shove his chair back. This would have been more effective if Artemis hadn't ignored the burn on his ankle to loop his own foot around the chair closest to him and give it the strongest tug he could manage.

The pile-up that followed took out three tables and eight chairs, and was incredibly undignified for everybody involved. Bec managed to scramble to his feet first and bolted towards the back of the cafe, hoping there would be an exit to the back alley through the kitchen.

Artemis, coffee spilled down the front of his jacket, his singed loafer dangling half-off his foot, and Bec's laptop tucked under his arm, followed in limping pursuit with a groan. "Why do they always choose the hard way?"

-x-

The comm Holly had picked up from Artemis's study crackled to life as she hovered over the Manor, playing a looped recording of Lily Frond's voice in her ears. "This is an emergency broadcast," the elf was saying in Gnommish, "To any fairy stranded aboveground, please contact the first available LEP representative on the standard emergency line. Do not hang up the connection, and please remain calm."

"Please remain calm," echoed Holly sarcastically, jabbing at the communicator with her finger. "It's just the end of the world as we know it. Nobody panic now." She adjusted the frequency past the standard emergency line, tapping into the private line she had set up with Foaly. Artemis was not technically supposed to have access to this line, which meant that of course the borrowed communicator had it pre-programmed in.

"Foaly? Foaly, you there?"

A relieved whinny crackled over the line. "Holly! Late to the party as usual. What are you and Fowl doing up there?"

"This isn't our fault!" she spat out, instantly on the defensive.

"No, no, no! Not what I meant! I was wondering what kind of miracles you needed me to pull off for whatever harebrained scheme the Mud Boy's come up with to fix this mess. That's all! Nothing personal. What do you need this time? A time stop? A magic beanstalk? A three-legged pink dancing unicorn?"

"A thermal scan of the Fowl Manor grounds," Holly answered. "I'm in Ireland. And Artemis isn't here. Last I saw, he was still in Russia. I was actually hoping he'd already made contact with you."

"Nope," the centaur whinnied, tapping at the keys to pull up the requested scan. "Lost his tracker right when things started exploding up there." He paused. "I'm sure he's fine."

The elf grit her teeth, but made a conscious decision to trust in her best friend's ability to survive something as petty as an electrical explosion. The world may have been in the process of tearing itself apart, but she was certain it would require more than a few crossed wires to take Artemis Fowl down. "Look: there was another Changeling here and he'd been in contact with at least two more, Becquerel Jones among them. Get in touch with Caltrop - I'm sure he and the rest of LEPfoul are already doing everything they can, but they need to be on red alert. If any other Changelings are going to try anything devious, now would be the time for them to do it."

The centaur whinnied. "I believe they're already on it."

Holly blinked in surprise. "Oh. Tell them to carry on, then."

The scan expanded on the communicator's screen, clearly displaying three distinct heat signatures in the western corner of the grounds. Looking at where they were located, she wasn't surprised in the slightest.

It was the place where the golden fairy roses still grew in the shape of a berserker rune. The spot where their brother had once died, and then been brought back to life. Of course Myles was doing his magical experiment there. It couldn't have been anywhere else.

Two of the thermal readings were small and human in shape; Holly guessed that if one was Myles, the other would be Beckett. The third, though….

"Any idea what that is?" she asked.

"Nothing good," answered Foaly. "Energy readings are going haywire over there. More haywire than usual, I mean. Things never really settled down after - well, you know what happened. Gate's gone, but that doesn't mean the spot is stable. You might want to hurry."

Holly was already bee-lining toward the problem spot, though she still managed to spare the breath for a quip. "You said _hay_ wire twice there. It must be a crisis," she snorted. "You're hungry and it shows. Eat another carrot, would you?"

Foaly swallowed the carrot he had currently been chewing on, opened his mouth to retort that he'd done an excellent job lately with curtailing his stress-eating habits, and then nearly choked. "Holly? Fowl's - he's definitely alive. His Neutrino pinged me. No GPS tag came through, everything's too scattered to pick it up, but he definitely just fired a shot."

"Did he hit anything?" Holly asked instinctively.

"It's Fowl," Foaly snorted, reaching for another carrot. He'd already gone through two bags of them. "What do you think?"

-x-

The shot went wide over Bec's head. The teenager skidded to a stop, pivoting on a heel with a snarl, "Your aim sucks, Art." He raised his hands slowly, packing as much sarcasm into the gesture as he could manage. "But okay. You got me. What are you going to do about it now?"

Artemis was standing in the back doorway of the cafe's kitchen, feet planted and weapon aimed steadily at Bec. "Warning shot. Next time, I won't miss." He stepped over the dropped laptop into the alleyway, letting the door swing shut behind him so the two of them were alone. "Tell me what you did to my brother."

"I talked to him, that's all. He's a good kid, your brother. All he needed was a friend. Someone to take him seriously, encourage him, and give him the nudge to actually investigate all those strange energy readings around your house."

Artemis's finger could not physically be any tenser on the trigger without firing. "If you hurt him, I promise you I'll -"

"Relax, Art." Bec grinned, cutting off what he was sure would be a very impressive threat. "He's just fine."

-x-

Myles was not just fine. In fact, he was the opposite of fine.

Everything was going horribly wrong.

After months of hard work and planning, the day of his grand experiment had come at last. And it had seemed to be a success, too - taking the readings from inside the grounds themselves instead of through external satellites was exactly what he needed. The data was precise, the blueprints that Bec gave him were working exactly as promised, and so far, Beckett had made a great show out of being bored by the proceedings.

That last point was usually a good sign, in terms of scientific progress.

And then the data feed cut off unexpectedly, leaving Myles's machine churning and sputtering as it tried frantically to process nothing.

Myles, too, was growing frantic. "I can't shut it down!" he called over his shoulder.

Lounging on a tree stump partway across the meadow, Beckett looked up from the fairy rose that he had been busy shredding, plucking petal after petal and letting them fall to the ground at his feet. He'd already assembled quite a collection. "Huh?"

"It's not shutting down!"

Beckett's eyes focused on the machine's oscillating lights, peered up at the tower behind it, and then blinked back down. "Uh oh. That looks like a problem."

"You think?"

"What did you mess up this time?"

"I didn't!" Myles protested, reaching out to touch the metal surface and then thinking better of it.

Beckett tipped his hand to spill the thorny flower stem onto the grass, stood up, made a token attempt at dusting pollen from his pants, and jogged over to investigate. "I'm pretty sure it's going to explode," he announced in a sing-song voice, not seeming nearly as daunted by the prospect as a normal six year-old should be. If anything, he almost seemed excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"I know!" Myles snapped, tugging at his hair. "How do we -?"

"Stand back, humans!"

Both twins whirled around to gape at the strangely-proportioned woman floating several feet away with a weapon trained in their general direction. Beckett shoved forward in front of Myles; Myles let him.

The woman rolled her eyes. "No, get behind me. I'm Holly, I'm a friend of your brother's, and I can't shoot your gadget with you in the way!"

_Oh_.

Beckett grabbed at Myles's hand and tugged him away from the machine. Myles dug in, loafers scraping at the dirt. "But that's _mine_!" he said in token protest. "You can't shoot it!"

"It's going to explode!" Beckett hissed at him, tugging harder.

Seeing sense in this line of argument, Myles reluctantly allowed himself to be pulled aside. Across the clearing, Holly made a face and as soon as the twins had cleared the area, shot the machine three times.

The shots hit with pin-point accuracy, enveloping the machine in a brief golden glow before it absorbed the energy into itself.

"Oh, excellent," said Myles with a purposeful scowl. "We're saved."

Holly rolled her eyes and muttered something about _family resemblance_.

Beckett took a slightly more direct approach: toeing out of his shoe, he raised it above his head and threw it at the contraption in the middle of the clearing.

Another glow of yellow light burst from the machine, this time tinged with blue sparks. The loafer never hit the ground; instead, it dissolved into a cloud of gray ash. All three observers flinched.

-x-

Now that he had nothing left to lose, Becquerel seemed almost happy to have somebody to properly monologue towards. And Artemis, having more than his fair share of experience with villainous monologues, was more than happy to let him. He had long since learned that they almost never worked out in favor of the villain. "You got your memories back," he prompted, taking a step forward with his Neutrino still raised. "I'm curious how that happened."

"Somebody sent me the tapes, Art. The shuttle you crashed, remember? Totally had a dashcam. Maybe I shouldn't tell you that, but I kinda like the thought of you trying to figure out which one of your fairy friends is a traitor to your cause. I mean, they had to know that giving me back my memories and helping me fine-tune your brother's magical research would come back to personally bite you. That sounds like a grudge to me, and you've given lots of people lots of reasons to hate your guts."

"Interesting," Artemis said mildly, his face not betraying any of the shock, hurt, or confusion that Bec had hoped for. "You reasoned this out, but decided to play into their hands anyways."

Bec's face twitched. "Yeah. Their interests aligned with mine. I happen to hate your guts, too."

In sharp contrast to the standoff below, the rain had started to clear off. Sun was breaking through the clouds, and a songbird chirped merrily half a block away. Artemis's eyes narrowed a fraction, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly as pieces slotted into place. "I see. And that's all that motivated you?"

"What, you were expecting something else? A grand plan to change the world or lead a revolution or get rich quick or something equally devious?"

Artemis shrugged, though Bec could tell that he was barely holding back a monologue of his own. "I suppose I'm used to my enemies thinking bigger than that," he said instead, sounding sorely disappointed even though his eyes were alight with something that looked suspiciously like an epiphany. "I admit I don't quite know how to appropriately respond to your lack of ambition."

Bec snarled. "You don't need to. The whole world is doing enough responding for me. And hey - put that gun away. We both know you're not actually going to shoot me."

"Do we?" asked Artemis, sounding perfectly calm. He kept his stance just like Holly had taught him, feet positioned just so to keep him centered and his support hand bent at the proper angle against his shooting arm to steady his aim.

"Come on, Art. You're a member of the LEP now. You've got their restrictions, you play by their rules. You can't just shoot an unarmed human civilian, especially not one who's surrendering. Look at my hands." He held them higher for emphasis. "I'm surrendering so hard right now. Too bad for you. I mean, I did just rope your brother into all of this. It's going to land on his head, for sure. His or yours, anyways. I guess I don't really care which. If I were you, I'd totally have shot me by now if I were allowed to do it without starting an interspecies war."

Artemis raised an eyebrow.

Bec's stomach dropped, bravado finally failing him. "Er, right?"

"Wrong. The LEP doesn't hire humans. I'm just a consultant," said Artemis, and pulled the trigger.

-x-

It was too late to find another way to stop the machine. Even Foaly had confessed that the only option Holly had left was to vacate the area immediately. And when Foaly told her to run, Holly knew to listen.

She grabbed Myles's arm and reached for Beckett's, but the second twin wormed away at the last second to dive headfirst towards the machine. "What are you _doing?"_ Holly shouted, shoving Myles backwards into the comparative shelter of the nearest cluster of rose bushes and running after Beckett.

Beckett ignored her, hitting his fist against a panel until it fell loose and then squeezing his fingers into the gap. When his hand emerged again, there was a clump of multi-coloured wires in his grip.

"Get down!" he warned, and pulled.

-x-

The world exploded into light.

-x-

"The Fowl twins just dropped!" Terrell shouted across the room, from the middle of a group of hard-working marketers. "Their vitals just spiked like crazy and now they're both unconscious. Otherwise fine, though, I think?"

Sass whinnied in alarm. "Same for Vedette. Also Minerva!"

Caltrop and Dodo had been busy pouring over Artemis's Reveal Contingency Plan. The dwarf thrust the book into Caltrop's hands and then bustled over to take a look at Sass's workstation. "Though Saul's readings - well, they're fine. It looks like everybody around Minerva is fine. So that's something, at least."

"Uh, dudes? They're totally dropping like flies! Changelings! All over the world, dude! Every single one of 'em!" Icky thudded in a quick circle, until the side with his projector module was facing a wall. It blinked yellow, and then a map shone on the wall. "Green is normal heartrate, look."

"I only s-s-see red?" Maise said tentatively.

"Exactly, dude!" said Icky, rocking back and forth with excitement. The image on the wall shook to match, his unique method of transportation having ensured the gel matrix inside the AI's chassis was no longer rigid enough to keep it steady against the bumps. "And magical readings all over the world just spiked for a moment there! Like a wave! A totally gnarly wave! Like - like - like whoa! The whole world just took a magic bath, man! Whatever that was, I've got a feeling it was _big_."

They would have debated this issue more if Lucia hadn't chosen that precise moment to emit an ear-rending screech. Perched on the upper side of Dodo's toppled fishtank, she spread her wings to their full span and crowed as though her moment of ultimate triumph had finally arrived.

"Oh, g-g-g-gods!" screamed Caltrop, diving for cover. "A-are we - glub! - _sure_ the bird had nothing to - glub - do with it?"

Stranded on the desk while the office dissolved into well-practiced chaos around him, Icky was able to give the matter some serious thought as his colleagues took evasive maneuvers, dragging the hapless and stunned marketers along with them. "Dude? If I didn't know better, man, I'd say she totally _knows_. You know?"

-x-

Myles woke with grass in his face. _I'm allergic to grass,_ he thought sourly, and pushed himself upwards through a tangle of rose bushes to try and figure out exactly what he was doing outside anyway. _Ow. Thorns. Gross._ Whatever had happened, it had better not be Beckett playing another stupid prank. He had important things to do, like - _Oh._

The machine was destroyed, scrap pieces scattered over the clearing with the force of the explosion. The roses had actually done a decent job of protecting him from the worst of the blast, though now crawling out of them left the young genius covered in scrapes and scratches.

This was the worst thing to happen to Myles all day, until he saw his brother. Beckett was laying closer to the scorch mark left on the earth where the device had once stood. There was blood in Beckett's hair, and his arm was bent at an awkward angle.

_No, not Beckett!_

His heart suddenly racing, Myles flopped out of the bushes, scrambled over the smoldering scraps, and dropped to his knees at his brother's side. The fairy girl lay a few feet away, but she barely registered in Myles's list of priorities. He grabbed Beckett's shoulder and leaned over to see if the boy was still breathing. _Please be alright, please be alright, don't be hurt. If you're hurt, it's my fault. It's all my fault - please don't be hurt -_

He was so worried that for a moment, Myles didn't even notice the blue sparks as they gathered at his fingertips before skipping out over Beckett's limp body. He nearly scrambled back when they caught his attention, mind racing as he put the pieces together. _Magic, fairy healing… how does it work… how do they do it?_ He looked over his shoulder, but the fairy wasn't moving and so would clearly not be any help. Myles was on his own for this one.

Luckily for both Myles and Beckett, it turned out that instinct was much more helpful than anything he could have pieced together from the books Henri had provided.

"Heal," he whispered in a language he had never heard spoken aloud before - the language from his brother's cell phone and Henri's notes, the one where 'centaur' actually meant 'centaur' and 'magic' felt like - like -

Well, like this. The magic knew what to do. Myles just had to let it.

Still unconscious, Beckett drooled happily on the grass as his arm snapped back into place. His spit glowed.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Myles sank back down into the grass and let his eyes close once more.

-x-

For a moment after Holly opened her eyes, she could have sworn that one of the twins was moving - but that could have been an aftereffect of the explosion messing with her eyesight. The twins lay still among the machine scraps and orange petals, although a quick inspection showed neither of them seemed to have suffered any injuries. Her magic didn't find anything to heal, anyways. _Thank Frond for small blessings._

That was another aftereffect of the explosion: she was running hot, magic responding immediately and effortlessly to her command. It felt like she had just completed the Ritual, and she had a sinking feeling that was a bad sign.

"Foaly?" she asked, lifting her comm device to her mouth to test whether it still worked. "Any idea what just happened?"

"Oh, phew! You're all right!" Foaly responded. "We're, uh… we're working on it."

That was not promising. "Keep working on it, then. Let me know what you figure out."

She expected the centaur to go quiet as he turned his attention back to his screens. Instead, Foaly continued, "Oh. Um. Dorian's in Dublin."

" _What?"_ Her mouth dropped open. "How did he -?"

"Don't know, but I'd bet anything our favourite Mud Boy is with him. Oh, human social media sites are blowing up with news about an ambulance breaking up the pop star's impromptu concert. That's a shame."

"Foaly, focus."

"I'd suggest Artemis might have gotten fed up with babysitting and shot him, but the timing doesn't quite sync up. It's probably because Dorian fainted, just like the rest of them. Hang on." The centaur paused before suggesting, "His tracker blew up so we can't say for sure, but Fowl might have passed out, too. You should probably find him fast. That much magic can't have been good for his system, given his history."

Holly would have questioned further, but there were human voices in the near distance; she turned to see two figures rushing up the hill towards the source of the blast. Holly considered waiting to greet the twin's parents, decided that she would rather not have to explain that she'd managed to lose track of their other son somewhere in Russia, and shimmered out of sight. She had a Mud Boy to hunt down.

-x-

Minerva woke disoriented in the ashes of the chalet's ski-lift. Saul was hovering over her anxiously, relief flooding his face as he realized she was no longer unconscious.

"Minerva! Are you all right? I was just about to send someone down the mountain to get help!" He gestured to his phone helplessly. "Still no reception."

She tried to marshal her thoughts into enough order to answer the question. "I feel… bubbly."

Saul sat back. "Bubbly?" he repeated, concern creeping back into his face. "I have never heard you use that word before."

"Well, I've never felt _bubbly_ before," she said, irritated. She was not the sort to fall into a swoon, especially not when she was supposed to be the rescue party. "I'm fine. You?"

"Better now that you're awake," he responded, bending down.

Then Saul kissed her, her heart skipped, and time stood still.

Something wasn't right. Minerva jerked backwards. Time was still not moving. Or rather, it was moving at an exaggerated pace outside a little bubble that had sprung up around her and Saul. She gasped. The bubble burst.

-x-

Ray came to in the Fowl Manor kitchen with a minor headache, an empty bladder, and the foreboding sense that someone dangerous was coming down the hall. Large and dangerous, if the loud footsteps were anything to go by. _Butler,_ he realized, a chill creeping down his back. If the Fowl twins had gotten hurt by… well, whatever it was that he'd gotten caught up in, Ray would be blamed.

He wished he were invisible. All it did was make the headache worse.

As predicted, it was Butler who stepped through the door. Ray was so scared his teeth were actually chattering. Even worse, Butler didn't even do him the courtesy of trying to make him feel better. In fact, he was acting as though Ray weren't even there.

And then the man's hand went to his gun. He pivoted on his heel and stalked out of the room, suddenly incredibly light on his feet.

Ray sagged in relief and looked down at his hands. They… weren't there. None of him was there. He… he really _was_ invisible! His vision was blurry, and now that he was paying proper attention he could feel vibrations running through him. That explained the headache and his teeth, at least. He was grateful his stomach was empty; if not, he probably would have thrown up.

He considered trying to figure out exactly what was going on, but the headache was getting worse with every second and Ray had no idea how long it would be before Butler came back. Better to take advantage of this minor miracle and skedaddle while he still had the chance.

"It's okay," he whispered, feeling his voice shake as though talking into the back of a household fan, "I'll show myself out."

-x-

Dorian felt fine, given everything that had happened over the past two days. Better than fine, even: his whole body felt warm and tingly, as though he had swallowed a small and carbonated sun. He was perched on the edge of the ambulance bed trying to figure out how to capture this feeling in appropriate rhyme and melody, feet swinging in time with the tune he was humming. Now that he was alone, he was relieved to have a shield from the onslaught of fangirls outside. The majority had dispersed following the arrival of the emergency response crew but a small crowd of his most dedicated fans had set up camp outside the ambulance. They were currently chanting something, although he couldn't quite make out the words. Play for Dorian? No - _pray_ for Dorian. Well, at least that made more sense. It was a nice sentiment, and it cheered him to know how much his fans cared, but the noise was giving him a headache.

The paramedics discussing all their different theories over his fainting spell hadn't helped either, but it had been surprisingly easy to convince them to leave. Dorian had always been persuasive, and his pop-star status never hurt either, but this had been so simple it was almost suspicious. His own words had sounded strange in his ears, layered and honeyed, and they'd been much more effective than he'd expected. The paramedics had simply listened obediently to his demand, blinked twice, repeated his words back to him, and then filed quietly and dazedly outside without protest. It was almost like they'd been cast under a spell or something.

Almost like _he'd_ cast them under a spell. Huh. Combined with the bubbly feeling, this would require further investigation.

The door opened by itself and then closed again, followed by a weary voice. "Hello, Dorian."

He didn't bother to look for her - his anti-shield Google glass prototype had been destroyed back in Russia. "Oh hey! Sorry, your name's on the tip of my tongue but -"

"It's Holly."

He gave a tired grin, relieved at the knowledge that the fairy girl had apparently missed whatever magic he'd just displayed. "Right. Hi, Holly. Resting my vocal chords 'cause it's been a long day. That's why we're not singing right now. How's Apollo?"

A clatter as a box of gloves went spinning off the shelf and landed on the floor. "D'arvit," she muttered.

He perked up. "Oh, that's not as pretty as the rest of your language. What does that one mean, then?"

Holly didn't answer. "Why are you here, Dorian?"

"Don't you follow my Twitter?" he asked. "Didn't plan to be in this part of the world at all, really, but you know how it goes. Apollo seemed frantic - I figured he could use the moral support."

"But why did you both come _here?"_

He frowned. "Well, someone had to look for Bec, and Apollo needed a jet. Also a distraction, which worked out fantastic."

The elf shimmered into sight. "Becquerel Jones? You met him?"

"Not exactly." He blinked up at her, suddenly earnest. "But Apollo seemed to know him, and I figured anybody who's got him worried is probably bad news, huh?"

Holly was tapping her fingers anxiously on the barrel of her gun. Dorian unconsciously changed tune to match the rhythm; the elf glared.

"Dorian, this is important. Where did they go?"

He leaned forward. "Bec took the north exit from the park, last I saw. Apollo was waiting for him there." He shrugged. "Sorry, but I don't know anything beyond that."

She didn't bother to ask further questions, simply twisting her neck before again disappearing from sight. "Stay here," her disembodied voice told him sternly. _"Don't move."_

"Hey, I've got a concussion - I'm not going anywhere." He paused, considering how best to ensure that she wouldn't put two and two together and come up with _magic pop star_. "Or I've had a stroke. Depends on which medic you ask. They all seem sorta dazed, you know? Must be star-struck. I do that to people a lot. Aren't you wondering why I'm in an ambulance?"

The only reply was the creak of the door. The sounds of chanting briefly increased, and Dorian lifted his hand in farewell. Then the door closed once more, leaving the disoriented pop star on his own.

-x-

A cup shattered on the floor of the cafe, and Vedette winced before she even fully realized she was conscious. There was another crash, like an entire shelf of merchandise had been tipped over. And then the sound of splintering wood hitting something soft and dense.

That was ENOUGH. Furious that someone would dare wreak havoc in her cafe, Vedette bolted upright and almost crashed her head into the chin of a dangerous and angry man who had been clearly assigned to guard her while she was asleep. He jumped back with an oath, lifting a firearm.

Vedette responded by lifting her hand. Fire blossomed.

Across the lobby of the cafe, Juliet took down the last of the assailants with a flying kick. Landing hard and panting, she glared at the Changeling. _"_ Did you just -? Did that just happen? _Last time I checked, you're not a goblin!"_

Vedette stared at her hand in astonishment, and then at her sleeve. "I'm on fire!" she shrieked, scrambling back.

Without missing a beat, Juliet scooped up the fire extinguisher from behind the counter and blasted the foam contents at Vedette, inwardly cursing the day Artemis had gotten her involved in this Changeling mess.

-x-

Maeve had been awake and online for an hour before she realized anything was amiss.

_Strange_ , she thought, scrolling past the frantically-updating live feed on yet another news site. _I don't think I ever did get around to learning Swahili, but this is all making perfect sense to me._

It would take her another twenty minutes of surfing the web and putting the pieces together before it occurred to her that she may have suddenly developed the gift of tongues.

She tested the theory with Greek, Thai, and Zulu. Then she tweeted about it.

Five minutes later she thought better of it and deleted her account, but it was too late. The damage had already been done.

-x-

It took a long time of searching the crowded Dublin streets before Holly finally turned into a darkened alley and, more by chance than design, found her quarry. Lying in a heap on the cobblestones, an open laptop a few feet behind him, was Becquerel Jones. Unfortunately, he was alone.

Holly dialled down the motor on her wings and alighted a few paces away from the boy, watching carefully. He stirred, even though she remained shielded from his sight.

As Holly watched, Bec twisted to stare his computer down like he was trying to fry it with his mind. Holly rolled her eyes, though something in her gut clenched.

The laptop quivered under Bec's scrutiny, and rose half an inch from the pavement. _Telekinesis_?Holly instinctively shot it through the middle of the screen.

To the boy, it looked as though a beam had just materialized out of nowhere to strike the laptop.

Bec raised his head, shifting to prop himself up on one elbow as he looked around. "Who's there?" he called out.

Holly was far too tired to play games. She unshielded, crouched just out of reach with her weapon trained on the boy.

A grin flickered across his face. "Captain Short, isn't it?" He attempted to sit up further and failed, his actions hampered by the state-of-the-art fairy cuffs that secured his right wrist to the pipe of the building behind him. Holly's throat tightened.

"Where's Artemis?"

Bec's eyes sharpened. "Terrible feeling, not knowing whether your friend is alive."

Her finger pressed against the trigger. _"Where. Is. Artemis?"_

Jones must have realized he had nothing else to lose. He stared down the barrel of the neutrino and stated calmly, "Either Art vanished of his own free will, or he didn't. Bad timing either way, isn't it?"

Over the past decade of saving the world with a sarcastic, immoral adolescent genius in tow, Holly Short had shown a lot of restraint. Tonight, she had run out. One twitch of her finger was all it took to activate the particles of her neutrino. The beam leapt out at light speed, catching Becquerel Jones in the centre of his forehead and spreading its charge throughout his body. By the time Holly lowered her weapon, the boy had sagged once more to the cobblestones.

She checked his pulse before holstering the neutrino. Next, she inspected the cuffs to be sure they were secure. Then, satisfied that Jones would not wake anytime soon nor be able to go anywhere even if he did, she stood up again and made her way to the laptop. Even with the screen gone, she was certain Foaly could salvage something useful from the hard drive.

A step away from the computer her foot kicked against something small, sending it skittering across the street. Holly tensed but, when nothing happened, she followed. Bending down, she realized immediately what she'd found - this was the cell phone Dorian had mentioned. The one that Artemis had lifted off an innocent passerby, according to the pop star himself. Holly closed her fist around it before flipping the device open. Nothing happened until she pressed at the buttons; then, a feeble empty battery sign flashed twice and disappeared.

Holly tucked the phone into her pocket. "Foaly," she said, touching the button to activate her comm line. "I've found Jones and his computer - there's a phone here, too, that might tell you something useful. Send a retrieval team, but be careful - whatever the blast did, Jones is -"

The centaur whinnied in her ear, saving her from having to follow that sentence to its implausible conclusion. "No, no, no, not him, too!"

"Huh?"

"The magic, Holly. It's all of them. All the Changelings - at least, all the ones we've touched base with so far, given everything that's going on it's hard to tell and I'm sure it'll take days, if not weeks, for us to know for sure - they're using _magic_!"

Holly swallowed, cutting him off and deciding to prioritize. "Right. Well, be careful with him, then. Artemis was here, too. He'd cuffed Jones. I'm going to -" Her voice caught. As she straightened, her eyes had spotted the gleam of silver across the street. Holly dashed the remaining steps, pausing to stare down at the abandoned weapon.

"You're going to...?" Foaly echoed.

It took a moment for Holly to find her voice. "I found his neutrino," she said flatly. "He can't be far. Reveal or no, he wouldn't have left fairy tech out in the open like that."

"Holly?"

"Send the retrieval team to these coordinates," she repeated. "Bec and the laptop are here. I'm going after Arty."

"Holly, wait -"

She shut off his voice with a flick of her finger before activating her wings. Dublin was one city, and although it was crowded with people wandering dazed in the aftermath of the People's reveal, it couldn't take long to find Artemis now that she had a place to start. Surely it was only a matter of time, now.

But when dawn's first light hit the city, Artemis was still nowhere to be found.

-x-

The woman was turning chairs down from the tabletops when Butler entered the cafe. She spared him half a glance before slipping around behind the counter, tapping a button to bring the cash register to life. "Didn't expect to see anyone out and about this early," she told him conversationally as she waited for the screen to load. "What with the chaos last night. Did you hear? Absolute madness, it's all over twitter - " She paused, taking in his appearance, "But you wouldn't have a twitter, would you? You must have felt it, though. The magic. I heard rumors some people even kept some. You think that's true? It's everywhere online."

Butler strode through the tables toward her, looking around the cafe. It was an unassuming space, with an abundance of food on display under the glass counter. The woman followed his gaze. "See anything you'd like?"

"Actually, I have a few questions." Butler flipped out the police badge he kept for just such occasions.

The woman straightened. "All right, then. Don't know why you'd want to ask me, though."

He tucked the badge back into his jacket pocket, stopping before the counter. "Two young men were in here yesterday afternoon. I'm afraid they might have caused a bit of a stir." His hand closed around the photographs that had been tucked in the pocket beside the badge, but the woman's face had already lit up in recognition.

"Those two that caused the commotion? I remember them, I cleaned up their mess for sure, but I can't tell you much more than that, sorry. They weren't in here for long. The one with the ponytail got a black coffee, and the other one didn't buy anything." She sounded almost put-out.

He pulled the photos out anyway, laying them on the surface in front of her.

"Yes, those two," she nodded. "Sat down at one of the tables just over there. Only stayed for a few seconds before they were scrambling back out the door. Didn't seem too happy to see each other."

Butler felt his heart rate quicken. He tapped the picture of Artemis. "Did he ever come back?"

She paused, mouth pursed as she thought. "Don't believe so, no. And I think I would have noticed if he had. Quite a commotion those two caused."

Butler pushed the photos toward her. "Yes, they tend to do that. Here - if any of your staff knows more, please let me know." He lay a business card down on the counter, even though he doubted anyone else would come forward with information. It was always worth the try.

He was halfway to the door before the woman spoke again. "Say, but they must be caught up in something big, if you're busy chasing them down while there's fairies running around out there. You heard about that, right?"

He turned back, expressionless. "I did hear something of the sort, yes."

"Can you believe it? I can hardly believe it, but everyone says it's true, and even then, I _felt_ it. Just for a moment there. The magic. And if this isn't a hoax, maybe there's something to that story that went around right after the Techno-Crash, too." She sighed dreamily. "If magic actually is real, well... everything we know about the universe is wrong, isn't it? The entire world just changed."

Butler sighed, feeling the weight of the past decade. "Not for me, it hasn't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, there we go! A full set of post-season wrap-up notes will be posted in a day or two along with a webisode to tie up a few loose ends. But yes. That did all just happen.
> 
> Also, feel free to play our Twitter game in the comments?
> 
> On the technical side of things, we realize that the list of physical anomalies that Artemis lists off to Dorian is complicated by the whole clone thing. We choose to assume he didn't keep the swapped eye because that involved the introduction of elf DNA into the mix, and cloning is hard enough even when all the genetic material comes from the same species. However, we like to think Foaly knew this was a sad turn of events so he took it as a personal challenge to get Arty's hands just right. And then he was so preoccupied by this that he never even noticed the sixth toe until it was too late. - Winged and Freud


	18. Time Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webisode 2.07.5: The world has just changed, and Artemis Fowl is nowhere to be found.

Even with his newly gained ability to bend annoying clumps of paramedics, assistants, fangirls, and hotel staff to his will with even more ease than usual for somebody of his celebrity, it was close to midnight by the time Dorian found his way up to the penthouse suite. He'd given instructions to be left in peace for the night, and everyone had been _very_ happy to comply. Except, apparently, for the short hairy creature already waiting inside the room beside a messy hole that looked like it had been eaten out of the wall.

The instant this creature noticed him, it threw its hands into the air and shouted with glee, "DORIAAAAAAN! I can't believe it's really you! Finally! You probably don't know this, but I am your number one fan. Actually number one. I'm the dwarf who went to all the trouble of smuggling your Deluxe Edition sophomore album tin box set belowground! You know, the one that came with the limited edition t-shirt? I'm wearing it right now, actually!"

The creature spread its arms wide and beamed, revealing alarmingly large teeth. This, combined with the gleeful monologue, was a frankly embarrassing display. At least Dorian had seen it before from numerous fans, if not from a three-foot-tall hairy creature with huge tombstone teeth.

To Dorian's credit, he hid his surprise well. "You've, uh, got something on it."

The dwarf made a halfhearted attempt to brush away some of the dirt and drywall.

"Listen," Dorian said, crossing the room to lay his guitar case down on the hotel bed, "I'm always willing to sit down and chat with fans, and I've got an autograph session planned for tomorrow morning bright and early, but it's been a long day. I kind of just want to go to sleep. I can give you a pass to skip the line, if you want." He frowned, debating if he should try again to use his strange new power to encourage this particular fan to leave.

The dwarf started talking before that decision could be made. "Look, buddy. I was tunnelling my way up here and keeping an eye on you, and I can see _and hear_ what you're doing. While I appreciate your initiative and determination, mesmerizing everyone you come across is kind of really sketchy for a number of reasons. Ethics, for one. I don't really object on a personal level, unless you're trying to mesmerize _me_ , but I'm one of the good guys now which means I'm obligated to point out that mesmerizing others is a faux-pas. Just about as bad as clearing out tunnel air inside the home, you know? Also, you're human. You really shouldn't be able to mesmerize anyone. It's disturbing on a number of levels."

Dorian blinked, the majority of that lecture on the ethics of mind control going over his head. "Tunnel air?"

The dwarf gave a lively example, pirouetting in the air with unlikely nimbleness before landing on his toes and dropping into a bow. Then he reached back to button up his bum flap.

"Ah," Dorian said. He still had questions, but they were vastly outweighed by his regrets. He decided to keep any further inquiries to himself - at least, until the smell cleared. "I… am not using mind control. That's impossible," he said, voice layered with magic.

Mulch (for of course it was he) shook his head. "No, see, now you're trying to mesmerize me into thinking that you're not mesmerizing me and that's really not cool. Devious, is what that is." He reached up into his hair, struggling against the tangles for a moment before a thick pair of sunglasses began to emerge. With a final tug, the dwarf yanked them free and dropped the glasses onto his nose. "There," he said with satisfaction.

"It's midnight," Dorian said, baffled. "Dark outside. You don't need those. Are you trying to look trendy?"

"Mirrored," said Mulch with pride, tapping at the lens. "Your _mesmer_ can't get through them. Now we can have a civil conversation."

"Ah," said Dorian, still making a concerted effort to breathe through his mouth as he sat on the edge of the bed. He was careful to keep himself positioned between Mulch and the guitar, as though that could protect the instrument from smelling like tunnel air for the next six weeks. "I understand."

The dwarf shook his head. "No, kid. You might be smart, but I think it's safe to say you barely understand the tip of this iceberg. Haven was a chaotic mess when I left, and it's bound to be ten times worse by now. The world above can't be doing much better now that you humans know about us."

"Actually," interrupted Dorian with a thoughtful hum, "I don't think it's really sunk in yet, up here. Last I checked, people were still playing Twitter games. I'm sure we'll get there eventually."

Mulch perked up. "Oh, those are great! Like the #replaceamovietitlewithfairy one, right? That's still going? "The Fault in Our Species" was my favourite. What do you think of "Fairy Potter and the Centaur's Stone?" Because that one was mine."

"Very witty," Dorian conceded, sweeping his bangs out of his face. "Wait, you Tweet?"

The conversation paused momentarily as they exchanged Twitter handles, pulled out their respective personal devices, and followed each other's accounts.

"Right," said Mulch, beaming with a gruff sort of pride at having his favorite pop star now among his online followers. "I'm actually here for a reason."

"I figured you might be, and I'm assuming it's not because somebody down there realized that I never got mind wiped at the end of this adventure? Please tell me that's not it. Because for one, that seems like a waste of resources for your People at the moment. And two, I'd feel really weird about following your account if that's what you were here for, and I'm pretty sure that's some kind of unethical."

"That's 'kind of unethical,' says the human who just discovered mind control," Mulch muttered, followed by something under his breath about Changelings. "Listen. I'm here because I think we've got some common interests, and we can probably work to help each other."

Dorian perked up. "Oh, good. I'm guessing you're a friend of Apollo's, then? Did he ever turn up?"

"Apollo? Who - oh, you mean Artemis. I get where you got confused there, but yes, he does have a girl's name." Mulch shook his head, fondly reminiscing. "He's so touchy about it, too."

"He is alright, then? We separated in the park, and I lost track of him after that. His elf girlfriend seemed worried when I saw her."

"It's not just you, kid. Everybody lost track of him. Like he vanished into thin air. Holly found and arrested Becquerel Jones, and some of Arty's things turned up, but there's no sign of our Mud Boy."

Dorian's face turned contemplative as he considered the challenge dangling before him. "They're not blaming him for any of this mess, are they? Because from what I saw, he was most definitely trying to stop it. I don't want to say that he _panicked_ when he found out this was happening... but he was definitely freaked out. Tried to hide it but I could tell. I don't think Apollo's somebody who rattles easily, but he was shaken."

"Yeeaaah," Mulch said, drawing the word out, "Kind of why I'm trying to find him. The thing you need to understand is that Artemis Fowl has got a _history_ with the fairy folk _._ They don't trust him very much at all, which is why they'd never admit that they need him on their side right now. There's a manhunt on at the moment - they're trying to put together exactly what happened, and it'd be a lot easier if he were around to set the record straight. But as soon as the LEP figures out that he's innocent on this one, there's no way they'll spare any further resources to look for him. Not with everything else that's going on. Which is why I'm here."

Dorian read between the lines. "You're his friend. You think he's in danger, and you're worried."

"We go way back, him and I," the dwarf conceded. "Met when he was a child, watched him grow up, and I'd rather see him live to a ripe old age. Either he's in trouble or he's hiding from something, and neither one is a good sign."

"And you need my help to get to the bottom of it, either way."

Mulch shrugged. "I figure if there's anyone who can find Artemis Fowl, it's someone who thinks like Artemis Fowl." He appraised Dorian critically, clearly evaluating the truth of that statement. "Or at the least, another Changeling. The more of you kids I meet, the more I can tell you're all alike."

Dorian nodded, not about to object. "I'm your best bet. And in exchange, you're willing to teach me how to use my mind control."

" _Mesmer_ ," Mulch corrected, before cluing in. "Wait, no. That's not the deal."

"That's the deal," Dorian said firmly.

"I'd love to help you, but I actually gave up my magic so I can steal things from people. And anyways, I'm going to be busy. Only way interspecies peace is going to work is if we have people on both sides of the law seeing the advantages of our kinds getting along. That's why I came to the surface in the first place: diplomacy is a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it." He beamed and rubbed his hands together eagerly.

All of which sounded odd to Dorian considering how recently Mulch had given him an ethics lecture, but (given the recent consequences of asking questions) he decided not to point that out. "So, what do I get in return?"

"The satisfaction of a job well done, and the knowledge that you helped a friend? And you've got to be feeling guilty about this - other than Jones, you were the last person to speak to Arty before he disappeared. And Jones isn't talking; he's in LEP custody, but human governments are already sniffing around to protect him and get him released. Until that happens, he's keeping his mouth shut."

Dorian considered the offer and decided it would have to do. Besides, he already had some ideas for where to start. And if this new goal just so happened to coincide with his need to understand what had happened to him when he passed out on stage, all the better. "No promises, but I think I know who I can get to help. We'll see what we can do."

-x-

_dormaslov tweeted_ :

@slendywho2 @cafedecosta @raimooo Drop everything, call me NOW.

-x-

_raimooo tweeted_ :

@slendywho2 @cafedecosta @dormaslov Maaaaaaaybe we should meet up face to face. I think I know what you want, and this is gonna be tricky.

-x-

It took an entire week for Holly to finally make it back home. Three days in Dublin, running damage control on the surface and trying to help Butler coordinate an entire missing person's investigation out of Fowl Manor. The next four, after she could no longer evade being recalled back to Haven, were spent in a haze of crisis reaction and response coordination with LEPfoul. Finally, the interns and operatives had teamed up and refused to touch another lightscreen until she went home for at least eight hours of proper rest.

"Six," she'd argued down, and the bargain had been struck at seven.

Which meant that she could no longer dodge the need to return to her empty apartment.

MoriarTEA met her in the front hallway. It was almost like deja vu, and this time she waved a hand to encourage it to give her room to slip around the chassis and into the living room beyond. "I don't have the energy to deal with you right now," she said once she was clear of the mechanical arm. "Go away."

"I am sensing you are...exhausted," the robot replied in a cool, detached voice as it struggled to turn around and follow her. "May I offer you some tea, Holly? Or a soothing herbal smoothie? My program tells me you prefer….nettle...in times of distress."

The elf flopped down on the couch with a groan, "No, I - hang on." She sat up again, flicking a wayward strand of hair from her eyes. "He fixed you. You're not locked up anymore, and you're talking. He fixed you."

The face on MoriarTEA's interface blinked happily in acknowledgement, but the robot did not speak.

Holly cupped a hand around her mouth, rising from the couch to call down the hall as she made her determined way to the guest room, "Artemis? Mud Boy, are you there? Arty, why didn't you -"

She paused at the door to his room. The door had clearly been lasered off its hinges from the inside out ( _note to self: disable the dishwasher's laser weapon_ ); the bed was still neatly made; there was a thin layer of dust on the bedside table. Artemis obviously hadn't been home.

Holly sagged.

Behind her, MoriarTEA gurgled. She turned to be met with the robot's arm extended at stomach-height, a glass of water held in place by suction cups at the end of it. "Proper hydration is very important, especially in times of stress," the machine told her with authority.

Holly accepted the glass to placate MoriarTEA's programming, though she was far from trusting it enough to drink. Instead, she set the glass down on the hall table with a frown. "MoriarTEA? When did Artemis fix you?"

Those, it turned out, were the magic words. The robot's light-up face vanished, replaced with the image of an old-fashioned rolling tape cassette. "Contingency message activated," MoriarTEA announced, and the recording began to play with a click.

It was alarming, at first. The background noise was a cacophony of screams and yells - it sounded something like a riot. It took her a moment to piece together that, threaded through and above the aural crush, a human voice sang in a language she did not need magic to understand.

_Dorian's concert_ , she realized.

"Hello, Holly," said a second, much more familiar voice. He was closer to the speaker, clearly audible over the flood of sound. "Forgive me the cliche, but if you're hearing this message...if you activated this recording, it means that I never made it home."

"Artemis Fowl, always with the melodrama," she muttered. A half-smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she realized that he had stopped intentionally, to allow her to respond and thus for this exchange to qualify as a conversation. He could grow taller all he wanted, but it was oddly reassuring to know that certain things about her best friend were never going to change. "But where _are_ you now?"

"In this case," Artemis continued, "you likely have more questions than answers. I can tell you that I'm going to confront Becquerel Jones - he is responsible for the exposure of the People. I've sent corresponding proof to MoriarTEA's disc. Have Foaly retrieve it, as it will corroborate this claim. I will do what I can to ensure Jones does not evade the consequences of his actions. I promise you, Holly, that he will not get away with this. Not if I can do anything to prevent it."

"And we found him, right where you left him," she said, folding her arms. "Well done, Mud Boy."

As though he could hear her through time, Artemis had paused again to let her speak. After a moment, he kept talking. "I have left a contingency plan in the LEPfoul offices. The bottom drawer of my desk - Caltrop or Dodo should know the access code, seeing as they're the only ones who actually read the handbook I drafted. What happens now, Holly, is going to be complicated. The world just changed. We'll have to change with it. This is not a war plan - it provides the foundation for sound foreign relations. Who to trust aboveground, and how to position LEPfoul to work as an intermediary agency between species. In particular, the Changelings are no longer the enemy - they may be young, but they are brilliant. Given the correct handling, they could become some of our greatest allies in this new world. I've outlined the best ways I can think of to approach each one, though of course your judgement is better than mine on that front."

"Clearly," the elf said, leaning back against the wall. "Since I'm pretty sure you recorded this before the part where some of them started shooting fireballs."

"Holly," Artemis argued, imagining her objection even if he hadn't been able to hear it, "If interspecies contact leads to war, you and I both know how it would end. We can _not_ let that happen, not at any cost. Use every advantage you can get."

Holly rolled her eyes, though her gut churned at the thought. "No need to tell me that, Mud Boy." She distractedly reached for the glass of water and took a drink before it consciously registered what she had done. It tasted fine - clean, filtered, pure.

Artemis swallowed hard, the sound loud against the small speaker of the cell phone he was talking into. "Oh, and you wanted to know when I fixed MoriarTEA? In Russia, the safehouse, using a remote data link. I did it after we spoke about - about the squid. And just so you know, and because if you're hearing this I may not get another chance to say it - on the topic of that conversation, I am not mad at you. Thank you for all that you have done for me. You are my closest friend, and I - " He cut off abruptly, the words choked in his throat. The human never had been any good at speaking from the heart.

She lowered the glass.

Artemis coughed. "I need to go. Jones is on the move. Farewell, Holly Short. I hope we meet again."

The recording clicked off. MoriarTEA's face blinked back into existence. "Recording finished," the robot said unnecessarily.

She rubbed at the corner of her eye with her free hand. "But where is he now? Where did he go after sending that message? Is he - _d'arvit_ , can you tell if he's even alive?"

"Question does not compute," MoriarTEA told her and, if she didn't know better, she'd think it looked sad.

-x-

Three Changelings stood in a circle in an alleyway behind a small cafe in Dublin, shoulders hunched against the rain as they studied the last known location of Artemis Fowl the Second. Dorian, as their unofficial leader on this particular investigation, was frowning at the clock on his new phone. Humidity didn't agree with his hairstyle or temperament, and he found himself regretting not bringing an umbrella or flat iron. He'd been in Ireland nearly two weeks now, and it'd managed to rain at least once every single day. "Where _is_ he? I told everyone to meet right at three, didn't I? I've got a plane to catch at five, my new music video drops next week and I can't delay the press tour any more than I already have - my publicist is already having kittens over it, poor woman. I've been a bit of a PR nightmare recently. Told her I've got it all under control, but apparently even the _mesmer_ has limits."

"PR nightmare is an understatement," said a voice out of thin air, and Ray shimmered into view. "Hey, guys," he said, waving a gloved hand in a sheepish greeting. His hair was short, brown, and curly today; his eyes were green, and his cheekbones were sharper than Maeve remembered them. "Sorry I'm late, I just didn't wanna be the first one here."

As the most familiar with Ray's personality and habits, Maeve took the initiative to sock him in the arm. "How long have you been there just watching us?"

"Not long," Ray said unconvincingly.

Maeve tapped her toes.

"No, seriously, not long! I get the weirdest headaches if I stay invisible for too long. I can only handle all the vibrating for a couple of minutes, if I'm lucky. Messes with my teeth, too." He grinned widely, displaying two chipped front teeth. "And I bit my tongue the other day in the worst kind of way when I tried to talk while shielded. Ow. I'm still talking funny."

"I believe you," said Maeve quickly, before Ray could stick out his tongue to demonstrate.

The fourth member of their group was much more sympathetic. "Oww," echoed Vedette, wincing at her former employee's plight. "Remind me to mix you up some tea to keep you from developing tooth sensitivity or root problems in the long-term, if you're going to be that hard on the enamel. I think I know exactly the thing I can synthesize to help with that."

Ray smiled, genuinely touched by the offer. "That'd be great, bosslady! Thank you. Your tea is the best!"

Dorian paced back and forth along the brick wall, hands shoved down into his pockets and steps matching a beat only he could hear. "Can we focus, please?" he sang in time with it.

"Yes, focus," agreed Maeve.

Ray pulled a device from his pocket and began fiddling with the buttons, explaining as he did so that he'd borrowed it from Artemis's younger brother. No one bothered to ask whether Myles Fowl had been aware that he was lending the tool out.

"What's that, then?" asked Vedette, peering over at the small, metallic cube.

Ray shrugged, lifting the box to display the readout. "Myles built it to measure magic in the air, when he first started investigating Fowl Manor. I thought it might give us a clue to what happened here, but I can't tell what it's saying. Something about the currents being wrong. It's all very mathy - Maeve, take a look?"

Maeve blinked. "That can't be right." She jabbed at the screen with a thumb, heart racing. "When I was researching the Slenderman myth, I found a series of mathematical equations that seemed to imply the existence of a very particular kind of magic. This kind of data matches what you would expect those formulas to produce, and it does so with a fairly low margin of error, but I was told those were a hoax and given fairly definitive proof of their origin."

Ray rocked back on his heels, handing the cube over. "I'm - uh. Pretty sure it wasn't a hoax. I looked into it, too. Some things didn't feel right when we were in Barcelona, so I kept poking around. Hey: if I said _demons are real and they can time travel_ , would any of you guys look at me like I was crazy?"

"Ray, we already look at you like you're crazy."

"Okay, then. Demons are real and they can time travel. What if I told you that I knew that on pretty good authority?" Ray darted a glance over at his fellow Changelings, paying particularly close attention to the look on Dorian's face.

The pop star crinkled his nose. "Who's authority? That's a stretch, even for a world where fairies live under our feet."

"Uh. Artemis Fowl's authority? I may have had access to his computer at one point, and he might be in the habit of keeping a pretty detailed journal."

Maeve was fascinated. She'd always loved the thought of time travel, and found it both conceptually and mathematically intriguing. "He's time travelled before? I wonder….Vedette, would you say your magic fits you well as an individual?"

"I'm a chemist above all else," the barista said, tugging at her hair. "So yes, I know a lot about fire. It's just chemical reactions. Easy enough to control, if you know what you're doing and can manufacture fireproof textiles so you don't set yourself aflame."

"Dorian?"

The pop star winked. "Showmanship, charisma, mind control. Boil it down far enough, it's all the same: how to win friends and influence people."

This was alarming, but Maeve persevered. "Ray is well suited to being able to turn himself invisible because it makes it easier to stalk people - yes, Ray, I'm not over that yet - and my interest in scientific and mathematical research on a global scale is strengthened by the gift of tongues. I propose that it isn't a stretch to assume that, having travelled through time before, Artemis might have suddenly found himself with the ability to do so again."

"One plus one does equal time travel," piped Ray. Dorian made a mental note to save the turn of phrase, as it sounded like something that could become a clever lyric.

Vedette raised a hand. "I feel like I should point this out: If Artemis did use his newfound magic to travel in time, it would obviously have been to change the past. He was very committed to helping his friends stay hidden - we had a long talk to exactly that effect, when he visited my cafe. Artemis would have stopped what Becquerel Jones did if he could. But history is still history. The Reveal still happened. The world is still feeling all the consequences. Which means that whatever he tried to do, it didn't work."

"Or he managed to change things and created a parallel universe where the fairies are still hidden, and that's where he is now. In which case, we might never see him again," said Ray, sounding almost cheerful at the prospect. "Which would also be cool, but probably a bad thing for our world, overall."

"And that doesn't change what happened here. We're all still magic," added Dorian.

To emphasize the point, Vedette held a finger in the air with a candle-sized flame hovering above it. The fire held steady, buffeted only slightly by the rain. Ray's outline shivered as if he was about to vanish, and then solidified again when Maeve grabbed him by the arm. "Don't you dare," she muttered in Czech.

Dorian hummed a concerned note under his breath, harmonizing exactly with the frequency of the drizzle as it ran down the nearest gutter. "So if Apollo travelled back to change this situation but didn't succeed…. _what went wrong?"_

-x-

He woke sharply in the pitch black with a crick in his neck, a horrific headache, a stone jabbing awkwardly into his back, and the sound of heavy breathing overhead. It was an ominous sort of breathing: thick and guttural and accompanied by the stench of raw meat and sour eggs. He didn't know what was causing the sound, and didn't particularly want to know either. All he knew was that he would much prefer it if the breathing were to move _away_ , and soon.

_It's okay,_ whispered a voice in his head. _You've woken up in worse situations before. Like the time when…_

But he couldn't actually remember any situations worse than this. Couldn't remember better ones, either. Squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath, he tried to conjure some kind of memory - anything -

It was no good. Everything before this darkness was a blank. It struck him that he did not know how he had gotten into this mess. Worse: he had no idea who he was.

_Priorities_ , he told himself firmly, fighting back panic. _I'll deal with this situation first. A real threat to life and limb is more important than any existential crisis._

Having a plan helped. He noticed that, while he was taking stock of his surroundings, his hand had lifted to touch the small coin that hung on a cord around his neck. The necklace was important to him, he knew, even if he had no idea why - the metal was warm against his fingertips, and he found to his surprise that it made him feel better to know it had survived intact.

_Survived what? No, I need to focus. First order of business is to escape._

Deep breaths. He took four of them, tapped his finger twice to the coin, and decided he was as composed as he was going to get.

Of course, "composed" was a matter of relativity when there was _something else_ in the near vicinity still breathing along with him. He released the coin and slid his hand down his front, feeling for pockets. After some fumbling, he pulled out a pen. _Fantastic, office supplies. I'm saved,_ he thought, and then realized belatedly that he might be a bit of a smart-ass.

It felt heavier than a pen should, though - he weighed it in his hand and then rolled it between his fingers, considering.

When his thumb slid over a switch embedded on top of the pen's cap, a sharp cyan light illuminated the area. The pen also began blaring a shrill, high pitched whistle that echoed right on the edge of his audible hearing range. He was temporarily stunned by the sudden burst of sensory input, squeezing his eyes shut - but not quickly enough to avoid _seeing_ the thing that loomed over him, all razor-sharp tusks and murderous eyes.

Both he and the troll screamed in unison.

The sound of the creature's agony cut off the human's comparatively pitiful wail almost immediately. He peered up cautiously to see that the troll was completely incapacitated, flailing wildly so that its giant claws raked the air mere inches above its potential prey's chest. Then, probably from sheer luck alone, it stumbled backwards instead of forwards.

The human took advantage of the space this bought him, rolling sideways to put further distance between himself and the claws before scrambling to his feet. He pushed himself upwards, pen still clasped tightly against his palm, trying to get traction against the loose rocks. It was alarming how practised the motion felt.

The light flashed against cavern walls as he moved, revealing a large open space crossed by a stone bridge off to his left. He decided to give that feature of the tunnel a wide berth; something about it gave him a very bad feeling.

In the other direction, the path leading down from the bridge disappeared off into a dark tunnel. He glanced back once more to the troll to check that it was still occupied in its self-pity, saw something else move in the dark behind it, and decided that it was time to go. It was a surreal moment; he almost felt like he was supposed to say something witty.

The second troll roared. He held the light out blindly behind him in the hopes of fending it off, and decided that his breath would be better served by running.

It quickly became apparent that he was not the athletic type, though sheer adrenaline carried him a fair distance before he was forced to slow to a jog. From there, his pace devolved into a tired limp. Thankfully there were no sounds of pursuit, although he still braced himself at every turn for disaster. The tunnel was long and winding, though easy enough to navigate: there was only one path to follow. One foot in front of the other.

He was starting to realize that his exhaustion was from far more than simple physical exertion. His entire body _ached_ , and the ongoing high-pitched buzz was making his thoughts spiral aimlessly. At least the blinding blue light at the end of the pen had faded to a soft red glow, a color he knew instinctively was invisible to the rod cells in a troll's eye (though how he knew this, he hadn't the faintest idea). Lifting the pen in front of his face, he noted that his vision was blurred and his hand couldn't hold the metal cylinder steady.

_That's interesting. However I got here, I might be going into shock from it_ , he thought dully, taking stock of how rapidly he was fading as though it were happening to somebody else.

That mental distance was good - it kept him from panicking.

So when the light caught a metallic glimmer in the distance that resolved into a shape that could possibly be used as shelter, he didn't have much choice in the matter. By now he was barely able to walk in a straight line.

At the edge of the debris field, he paused to evaluate his find. Some kind of transport device had crashed here, the craft's metal outer shell shredded by velocity and impact. Behind the wreck, jagged rocks had caved in completely. A dead end.

He was too dazed to care. _I just need a moment to catch my breath_ , he thought, knees giving out. _I'll find a way out of here as soon as I've taken that moment._ He tried to catch himself, missed the wall due to a failing sense of depth perception, and landed hard against a scrap piece of metal. The impact was jarring; he was pretty sure he'd cut his knee open, but didn't have the energy to check. It was all he could do to pull himself the last few feet to put his back against the most intact side of the ruined shuttle.

Now, there was nothing left for him to do. His last thought was to hope the high-pitched whining sound that still came out of the pen would continue to keep the trolls at bay while he was unconscious.

If it didn't, he was fairly certain he would not have the opportunity to wake up.

-x-

Luck was on his side this time.

-x-

When awareness of the world began to return, it could have been minutes later or it could have been hours. Without the jolt of adrenaline to aid him, swimming back to lucidity was much harder. His mind was thick and sluggish, and his whole body hurt in a way that ran far deeper than muscle and bone. He felt like he was made of thin rubber bands and light cotton threads. At the slightest strain, he was certain he would either fall apart entirely or dissolve into nothing.

_Something is incredibly wrong with me - I am not well._ It was the closest he could get to articulating the sensation of every single atom in his body spiralling deeper into magical shock.

Pain lingered at the forefront of his attention for a long time, blocking out everything else. In this condition, it took much longer than it should have to figure out what had woken him. By the time he registered the danger, it was much too late to do anything about it. Somebody was coming, picking their way gingerly through the rubble. He tensed for a fight where he lay, though he doubted if he could even sit up. The laser pointer in his hand still whined, the sound burrowing around his brain and giving away his position.

The approaching girl held a cell phone that emitted a surprising amount of light, and when she turned the beam his way it momentarily blinded him. He squeezed his eyes shut as an undignified sound escaped his throat, and she lowered the device with a quick apology. "Artemis? Is that you?" she called softly, creeping forward to investigate.

He cracked his eyes open again. The girl in front of him was wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt and a full tulle skirt, and her brown curls had been clipped back from her forehead with artfully arranged barrettes. She couldn't have been older than fourteen. Her face turned briefly solemn as she considered the situation, but then she apparently reached a decision and smiled warmly at him. Two pink rainboots squeaked against the gravel as she stepped forward.

None of this detail sunk in fully, as he was already starting to lose consciousness again.

"You look absolutely awful - I'd say you look like you handle adventure even worse than Bec. Easy, don't try to move just yet," the girl said soothingly, crouching to get a better look at the injured time-traveller's face. "Calm down, Artemis. It's just me. Did you hit your head? I'm Demia - don't you remember me?"

He didn't remember the girl, and tried to tell her as much; the words fell apart in his mouth, and the blackness swallowed Artemis Fowl once more.

-x-

_End of Season Two_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right. So.
> 
> Hi. Still with us? Still breathing? Okay, good. Because, like Artemis said in his message, this world just changed.
> 
> For those keeping count: the People have finally been revealed to humans, thanks to Becquerel Jones. Changelings are now capable of magic, thanks to Myles Fowl. Artemis has gotten himself lost in the timestream again, thanks to his own questionable brand of luck (kudos to everybody who predicted that one, by the way). And Dorian's favorite guitar now smells like someone lit a fart inside it, thanks to the combination of a burning safe house and Mulch's tunnel air, but at least he's made some new friends.
> 
> Clearly, due to all of the above, LEPfoul and friends have some significant challenges ahead of them.
> 
> Oh, and MoriarTEA can now talk properly - maybe it should hang out with Icky sometime? The two of them would be very happy together.
> 
> All things considered, season three is going to be a wild ride. Thanks for sticking with us this far! We're awful at responding to messages, but every single follow and review makes our day. And a special thanks to everybody who played our Twitter game last episode - we hope you liked the callout here!
> 
> This world just changed, and we can't wait to show you what's going to happen next! - Freud and Winged


	19. Canary In The Coal Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 3.01: In which Holly reconsiders her life choices, roving packs of Changelings cause mayhem, and LEPfoul does its best to welcome an interesting diplomatic delegation.

[click]

" _\- as the Jones custody case continues to drag on into its third month. Becquerel Jones, the human minor responsible for the discovery of the People, remains in LEP custody despite growing diplomatic pressure to release him to human agencies for trial - though what he would even be tried for, under human law, remains a bit of a mystery. A representative of the LEP has again declined to comment on the situation -"_

[click]

" _\- and the irony, of course, is that the most monumental event over the course of human history is not even human! We don't know much about the fairy folk, but scholars are going over the records that we've been able to access so far and what they're finding is truly, entirely astonishing. The language, for example, seems to be based off early Egyptian hieroglyphs, though the writing is arranged in spiral patterns that strongly resemble -"_

" _Hold up, hold up, we don't know that! We have to reevaluate everything we think we know about a global history. How do we know that the fairy language isn't what early Egyptian was based off -"_

[click]

" _\- terrorism, I tell you! These people - they have the nerve to call themselves "THE" People! - they're nothing more than terrorists! Let me tell you, if my child were being held in a foreign country by a group of individuals that weren't even the same species, why, let me tell you what I'd do about it! I'd get right out there and -"_

[click]

" _\- spend time outside! It'll be sunny with a high of eighteen degrees Celsius, though we're looking at a low of six with a chance of rain overnight -"_

[click]

" _\- and we are taking our chances every single time we even send any of our people to sit around the same bargaining table! The implications of magic as applied to human warfare, that's what's terrifying. Could you imagine an army that heals itself? Or one that can use mind control to -"_

[click]

" _\- reassure fans once again that any worries about his health are unfounded. Despite recent controversy, embattled pop star Dorian Maslov was spotted recently in St Tropez filming a music video for the lead single off his new album. The album, due out this summer, has been tentatively titled -"_

[click]

" _\- winging it! And that's the problem! We don't know how scared we should be of them! There's no way to know, yet they've been living below our feet all these years! They know everything about us, and we -"_

[click]

" _\- are opening the results, and what have we here? You are NOT the father!"_

[click]

" _\- but the real question is what impact the discovery of magic will have on medical advances! We're already on the cusp of a dozen breakthroughs, and perhaps this is what we need to finally push our civilization beyond -"_

[click]

" _\- our history! Of course they don't trust us! They live for hundreds of years - as far as they're concerned, the last world war was yesterday! We need a PR fiasco with these fairies like we need - "_

[click]

" _\- a fifth residential fire in a Portland suburb, which is now being blamed on the apparent pyrokinetic ability of four-year old Andre Price. As of press time, Price's parents have declined to comment on the -"_

[click]

" _\- sheer, utter, unmitigated and absolute chaos!"_

[click]

-x-

With that, the screen dimmed. Cahartez looked up from his tablet with a quiet cough, surveying the Council fairies gathered around him. "And that should be enough late-night human cable networks for you all to get the gist of the situation aboveground. Next order of business: What are we going to do about these roving packs of magical Changelings causing mayhem all over the world?"

-x-

It turned out there was only one pack of magical Changelings doing anything remotely similar to "roving," and they held the firm belief that any mayhem and chaos they caused was all in the name of the greater good. After bumping into a wall when a low-ranking LEP administrator flat-up refused their request to borrow the technology to accurately predict where in the past Artemis Fowl had reappeared (or when, as the case may be), they had been forced to take matters into their own hands.

Humanity, as a species, was not yet capable of understanding time travel. Human scientists, researchers, inventors, physicists, and mathematicians around the world did have a surprising number of the pieces worked out, but they weren't about to communicate that information with each other. Everybody wanted their own Nobel prize.

That was fine. The Changelings had no moral qualms about doing the leg work for them.

It was no wonder that their one group was believed to be many, and it was not accidental: the Changeling team had a tendency of popping up in odd locations across the globe, often too rapidly in sequence for legal travel time to allow. They left no calling cards, and their so-called mischief was always of a different flavour. One Interpol agent, tasked with evaluating cases like theirs in light of potential fairy involvement, had claimed that the styles of the different crimes varied too much to be attributed to a single unit.

(The general consensus amongst the pack was that this Interpol agent was something of an idiot. If Warren Freyne had heard how they talked about him, his feelings would probably have been very hurt.)

To anyone in the know, this discord was clearly because each Changeling in the team had their own idea of how to pull off each job, and any resulting "style" was a happy accident: four masterminds, each with magic and multiple contingency plans, resulted in an infinite number of possibilities for gambit pileup. It was a problem they were working on.

And of course reported sightings of the team were always different. They were very careful to make sure that was the case, as none of them particularly wanted their parents (or publicists - Dorian was on his fifth in as many weeks) figuring out exactly what they were up to. Their numbers seemed to vary depending on how visible Ray felt like being at any given moment in time, and he was an incredible makeup artist.

It had been a long two months, full of trial and error, but all four Changelings were in agreement: they were a great team, and they were starting to get the hang of this.

"Starting" being the operative word.

-x-

Perhaps the first clue that the Changeling team had not yet ironed out all the kinks was that, yet again, things were burning far ahead of schedule.

"Ray! _Stop_ going invisible and startling Vedette!" shouted Maeve, monitoring the situation from her computer in the back of the rented SUV.

"Vedette! _Stop_ setting Ray on fire and put your glasses on!" yelled Dorian into his comm at the exact same instant, automatically harmonizing and timing his syllables to be off-beat with Maeve's as he dove for cover behind a pillar in the middle of the room. At the sound of a _click_ behind him, he whirled around and found himself face-to-face with a scary-looking gun held by an even scarier-looking security guard. "Your arm feels _really_ heavy, friend," he told the man, slipping automatically into the _mesmer_. He found the magic was easier to harness when he sang, dropping his voice a soothing lullaby.

"You should put it down, put it down, put it down.

I'll finish your rounds, your rounds, your rounds.

Won't tell anybody, don't worry -

give it here, your weapons safe with me."

The rhyme was rough, and the meter far from his best, but it did the trick anyways.

"Because we all want the pop star armed and ready for action," muttered Maeve in response.

If Dorian didn't have to keep eye contact, he would have absolutely rolled his eyes. Instead, he persisted, switching into spoken word now that he had the _mesmer_ link established. "Easy there, buddy. You need to sleep, you look exhausted. Let me have the gun before somebody gets hurt." And then, because he felt obligated, "I'm always ready for action."

The guard wavered, his eyelids half-closing with the sudden need to sleep.

Twenty feet away, Vedette had decided there were more important things than Ray to burn. She retrieved her anti-shield Google glasses from the floor where they'd landed after an unexpected confrontation with a security guard. Then, she chose a clear plastic orb full of chemicals from the bag slung over her shoulder, and bent to examine the vault door in front of her. Holding the orb carefully against her palm, she lit it up with the faintest of sparks and then turned her wrist to press it against the locking mechanism. Iron oxide combined with aluminum powder, along with a few secret ingredients to stabilize and perfect the mix, resulted in a controlled burn that looked and behaved an awful lot like thermite. "I really hope you did actually manage to kill the alarms this time, Maeve," she said with faux cheer, heat turning her cheeks pink and leaving the sleeve of her specially-treated jacket charred. "Because if you didn't, I definitely just set off every single one in the building."

-x-

Halfway around the world, every single alarm was blaring. There was the fire alarm, for starters. The proximity breach alarm. The motion detector. In the distance, Holly could have sworn she heard a Klaxon.

"Okay, that one is _completely_ unnecessary," she muttered into the noise of evacuation. "Has anybody ever thought a Klaxon was a good idea?"

Foaly snorted over the comms. "Didn't Artemis rig a secret compartment in the drawer on his bedside table with one of those? I bet he thought it was hilarious." The question was rhetorical; Foaly had been the one to set it off while scouring the human's possessions for any clue as to his whereabouts in the days after the Reveal. It'd taken the centaur four hours to give up and call Holly for the alarm reset code.

He wasn't proud of that.

"It was hilarious, and I miss him too. Can we focus, please? Baby needs a booster shot."

Holly was not using a slang phrase to describe her mission. Andre Price was four years old and did, indeed, need a booster shot. The serum was one of No. 1's inventions, designed to sap the young Changeling's magic (and, subsequently, his ability to start neighborhood-wide conflagrations). Unfortunately, the young warlock and his mentor, Qwan, had been living on the Moon Colony since the Reveal had occurred and five separate house fires had occurred in the time it took for the serum to travel back down to Earth in one of Foaly's specially-designed transport pods.

Originally, they had commissioned the potion for use on Becquerel Jones; his newfound telekinesis had rapidly become quite the problem, as anybody who attempted to provide food, legal advice, or companionship for the furious teenager could attest. What he lacked in aim and fine telekinetic coordination, he more than made up for with a can-do attitude. Upon catching wind of the LEP's plan, the human agencies monitoring the Jones case had swiftly enacted a string of protocols and threats intended to protect the teenager from coming to harm by fairy hands, any harm he might do to well-intentioned fairy lawyers or prison wardens be damned.

The Changeling magic of Andre Price, however, was still very much a problem. A covert Council meeting had decided that the only thing more politically dangerous than quietly neutralizing his ability (at least until he grew old enough to consciously decide when to use it) would be a failure to do so. Luckily, they just so happened to have an unused booster shot sitting around. The effect wouldn't be permanent, but by the time it wore off Andre would be well into his teenage years (and thus, by Changeling standards, fully capable of making more rational decisions).

And so Holly was aboveground, staring at a scorched hole in the floor of a padded cell in a human government containment facility, and wondering where the baby went.

"Gee, look at that toddler-sized smouldering tunnel. I wonder where the baby went," said Foaly sarcastically.

Holly cautiously peered down the hole, from which a thin stream of smoke flowed. "He breathes fire. _You_ crawl down after him."

"I am safe in my operations booth, and I'm positive there's nothing you can do to jeopardize that this time, seeing as this mission isn't even supposed to be happening," said Foaly with a certain degree of smugness. "So my budget can't be docked because of anything that happens here. You should hurry up. Pretty sure the baby can't actually breathe carbon monoxide."

"Maybe we can lure him out," Holly said, crouching to examine the tunnel. "I didn't bring any food. Do you have a recording of his parent's voices, maybe?"

Foaly rolled his eyes, tapping away. "With all those alarms going off, I doubt he'd hear anything we do. You're there to give a human baby a needle. You should have brought candy or something. Chocolate. At least a sucker?"

"I have it on good authority Changelings hate lollipops," said Holly before giving up and jumping down the hole.

-x-

"You're fine, Ray," said Vedette in the van. She was the only member of their party who held a valid driver's license, and so she was behind the wheel of the escape vehicle. "Shut up and eat your lollipop."

"But you _singed_ me!" he whined, rocking back in his seat. He waved the conciliatory candy at her for emphasis before sulking and popping it back in his mouth. "Dorian made you glasses so you wouldn't do that anymore!"

Dorian, who was strumming absently on his guitar in the back of the van, looked up at the mention of his name. "Even with that minor hiccup, I think this one went really well. Good job, team! Pat yourselves on the back."

"She set me on fire!"

"But _aside_ from that, things went well." Dorian shook his head, tapping on the body of his guitar with the side of his hand. "Maeve? How's the mathy stuff coming?"

Maeve held up the computer she had been working on - a cube-shaped computer courtesy of Vedette, hastily reassembled and held together with duct tape. "We'll have to check with Minerva to be sure, but I think we've got it this time. All of it. So long as Ivan and Juliet come through."

"They'll come through," hummed Dorian, firm in his belief that there was no mission too difficult for the Jade Princess. The extent of his faith in Juliet had been immortalized in song and published as the lead single of his new album also, coincidentally, named _Jade Princess._ It was currently eating up the airwaves and pop charts; a (secretly-flattered) Juliet professed to hate it, even though the album was always playing in the background of their Skype calls.

Dorian was certain he'd fallen head over heels in love. By this point he'd had ample opportunity to ensure everyone else was certain of it, too. "Say, do you think we'll see her at Minerva's?"

"If we're lucky," sighed Maeve, preparing for another of Dorian's monologues on just how _awesome_ Juliet Butler was. These tended to be lengthy, poetic, and delivered in perfect iambic pentameter.

"If we're unlucky, we'll get to hear you spend the next week and a half whining about not seeing her," added Vedette. "You know she's too old for you, right?"

"Hey, if Fowl can get away with dating an elf…" Dorian began, before being cut off.

"And if we're really, really unlucky, the mob will have killed Juliet! Oh, man, we'd _never_ hear the end of that one."

Everyone turned to stare at Ray. The van swerved.

Ray spread his hands, speaking around the lollipop still sticking out of his mouth. "I was being sarcastic?"

-x-

Holly thanked all the gods that she'd thought to grab one of the human facility's fire extinguishers before jumping in the hole, as it turned out the baby really _could_ breathe carbon monoxide. After following a burnt tunnel for nearly half a mile, Holly had finally found Andre. He was sitting in the middle of the flames, gurgling happily, looking unsettlingly like a cherubic version of the devil himself.

Holly decided that, when this was all over, she was going to seriously reconsider more than a couple of her life choices.

-x-

Caltrop, Head Operative of the LEPfoul in the absence of his two superiors, was choking on his misaligned gill-tubes. Again.

"Whoa, buddy!" exclaimed Sass, leaping over a chair to reach his side. "SOS! The fish master is going under!" She chortled to herself while helping him fix the tubes, patting him on the back for good measure once Caltrop was finally again able to breathe. "There. All better. What happened? Usually you only start choking after something blows up!"

"S-something blew up alr-right," said Caltrop weakly. "The h-h-humans are here!"

"So they arrived in Haven on time then?" asked Dodo, dropping some food pellets into her fish tank. It was the third tank in as many months, but she had not given up on the concept of an office aquarium.

"No," spluttered Caltrop. "I mean, y-yes, they did. But they're h-h-here!"

The importance of his words began to sink in, and the others turned their attention to Caltrop's computer monitor. The security feed for the front of their building was currently pulled up, displaying a group of humans filing inside. Most of them had to duck as they stepped through the doorway.

Warren Freyne, ushering the group from the rear, should have had enough warning to also lower his head. Yet, just like every other morning since he had first arrived in Haven nearly three months ago on special assignment, he smacked his forehead square against the doorframe and bounced back a little. Then he lifted his hand, rubbed the already-bruising spot ruefully, and ducked twice as low as necessary to step inside.

Confidence restored, he led the group of humans off down the hall to the lift. Half a minute later, he was rubbing his forehead once again after smacking it while stepping through the doors.

Former Interpol Agent Warren Freyne had been caught in a customs dispute on the Russian border, intent on investigating the Fowl kid's apparent mob-related shooting at a pop concert in St Petersburg, when the People had been revealed. He'd been hoping Artemis hadn't actually been shot, if only because that would rob him of the ability to bring the Fowl case to some kind of satisfactory conclusion. The discovery that Fowl had evidently 1) stolen Dorian Maslov's plane 2) flown it back to Ireland without proper customs clearance and paperwork and 3) proceeded to vanish off the face (and underside) of the earth _again_ was incredibly inconvenient and threw an awful crimp into Freyne's plans.

It got worse. In the following weeks his superiors had decided that, as Frenye was tied up in investigating the sole human who had apparently sustained fairy contact for close to a decade, he was the obvious choice to send on a diplomatic reconnaissance mission belowground in an attempt to gain a handle on the Changeling situation. One human child entangled in fairy business was a problem - this potential situation was nothing short of a nightmare. Worse, Freyne had made it all the way down to Haven City before realizing that what his superiors had actually done was position him as the proverbial canary in the coal mine. They were hopeful nothing too bad would happen to him amongst his new magical colleagues but, if it did, they would happily heed the warning from the safety of their offices on the surface.

In short, he was dispensable. The fairy who had been assigned to chaperone him, a fierce elf with mismatched eyes and cropped auburn hair, had wasted no time in reassuring him of such (and promising that, should he set so much as a toe out of line, he would promptly be dispensed with). Freyne had gulped at the warning, smacked his head against the doorway into the LEPfoul offices for the first time, and informed her that he had no intention of causing any problems.

The sole saving grace of his working relationship with Holly Short, it turned out, was that she didn't seem to like Artemis Fowl much either. Her face soured at any of Freyne's questions about the human, and her fingers invariably shifted to the barrel of her Neutrino to tap rhythms against the sleek metal. Combined with the book he'd read about their shared history, a refreshingly honest volume penned by one J Argon, Freyne was certain he'd found an ally in the hostile elf.

Unfortunately for any plans to bond with her over their mutual dislike for Fowl, Holly Short wasn't around the office much over the next three months. It had seemed like a turn of luck that, upon learning no landlord in the city would even consider housing a human under their roof, Head Operative Chlorella had helpfully suggested he sleep on Captain Short's couch. With no better options, the elf had reluctantly agreed to the proposition as a short-term measure.

Even then, however, her apartment's security system made it hard to hold a casual conversation. The apparently sentient dishwasher guarded him from the minute he entered the apartment every evening to the minute he left in the morning, staring at him unblinkingly with its uncanny LED face. Occasionally the machine would ask whether Freyne would like a drink, but it never actually _gave_ him anything regardless of what he requested. He'd brought up the problem with Holly, who assured him she had no idea what he was talking about before excusing herself from the room. He'd heard her laughter through the wall and assumed he was simply using this advanced fairy technology wrong. In fact, the only response he could ever get from this machine was when he attempted to access the locked door down the hall from Holly's bedroom; the dishwasher had displayed a frowny face and blared a klaxon as though it had just caught him breaking into a bank, and then proceeded to stun him with a buzz baton hidden inside the arm that extended from the body of the machine. Freyne, upon regaining consciousness, had decided not to repeat the experience if only so Holly would not find him drooling on the rug again.

At least Freyne had managed to forge a tentative relationship with each of the other LEPfoul operatives. He felt he had gained a real rapport. So, when he found out the original plan was for an official Council spokesfairy to tour the delegates around Haven for the day, Freyne had brought them all straight to the LEPfoul office to meet the team instead. He was sure everyone there would be just as excited to work with the delegation team as he was. (And if not, he was at least grateful to no longer be the only human in Haven City.)

Sure enough, Caltrop and the other operatives were lined up and waiting to greet everyone by the time Freyne ushered the delegation team inside. There was a general bustle of chaos and introductions before the water-sprite hushed the room in preparation for the welcome speech he had hastily prepared while the delegation team had been making their way upstairs.

"We are s-s-so excited to work - glub - with you," he began, and launched right into describing what an excellent interspecies opportunity the upcoming collaboration would be for everyone. If this were not the LEPfoul offices, he likely would have made an excellent speech.

However, nothing could ever be that easy. Maybe it was merely that Lucia was unhappy to be left out of the introductions. Maybe it was because she thought this gathering was a precursor to another revolutionary event. Or - most likely - Lucia was simply being Lucia. Whatever her reasonings, two sentences into Caltrop's welcome talk, the canary let out a fearsome cry that made the hair rise on the back of every single diplomats' neck. Then, in a flash of yellow feathers, she attacked.

The fairies had scattered into their instinctive evasive maneuvers before realizing that they had abandoned the humans. The only one who had clued in was the youngest member of the human group, who had rolled beneath a desk only moments after witnessing Caltrop do the same. The two of them huddled together in safety, wincing at the screams as Freyne attempted to herd his team back out the door.

"F-fast reflexes," complimented Caltrop as the commotion carried on down the hall, running the human's physical appearance through his mental list of Changelings. He was by far the youngest of the group, and clearly the most intelligent, so it was likely that -

The human nodded unperturbed, as if ducking for cover was only natural. "My name's Augustus Montgomery, by the way," he said, holding his hand out in a self-assured manner. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other." He paused, before adding, "Well, I know your team has already seen a lot of me. Thank you for the surveillance. I really appreciate it."

Caltrop gulped, the name clicking in his head. "Right! Au - glub - stus. Got it. Pleased t-to meet you?"

-x-

Luckily for Ray, the mob had not killed Juliet. She was already in the waiting room of Minerva's clinic when the Changelings arrived, engaged in a staring contest with the receptionist.

"Oh good, you made it," she said, tossing a piece of tech across the room to Maeve without turning her head. "Mission was, of course, a success. No thanks to Ivan."

Ivan Tarroc, once Dorian's drummer and now his mob contact, was slouched in the chair beside her. He gave everyone a sullen nod and looked back to his phone; Dorian aimed a kick at the drummer's shin as he passed. Evidently he'd decided to continue to hold a grudge, seeing as the drummer had turned out to be only marginally useful after all.

"Do you have an appointment?" asked Sharon the receptionist. She blinked deliberately at Juliet as if to say that she _could_ have won the staring contest if she'd wanted, and then turned to the others.

Dorian shrugged. "Sure?"

"No one goes in without an appointment."

Ray bounced on his toes. "Uh, we do. We're hearing voices. And terrified of squid. All of us. It's a… group therapy session."

Sharon raised both eyebrows slowly before lifting the phone. "Ms. Paradizo," she said into the receiver, "Your friends are here. No, not those ones… the friends with the weird code words." She hung up the phone. "Ms. Paradizo will see you soon. Have a seat." It wasn't a request. The Changelings collectively sat down.

They sat in silence. The waiting room of Minerva's clinic did not feel like the proper place to discuss time travel technology, after all, nor the methods of which each component piece had been attained. Besides, Sharon the receptionist was still watching. If the Changelings had bothered to compare notes, they would have found that every one of them was reminded of the experience of sitting in the principal's office.

Finally, the phone on Sharon's desk buzzed. She looked at it, sighed, and then said reluctantly, "You may go in now."

-x-

Minerva's office was a comfortable size and decorated in a posh style intended to set her generally quite wealthy clients at ease. It had not been designed to hold four Changelings of various heights and energy levels (Ray was bouncing from foot to foot, Vedette wafted smoke from the ends of her hair without seeming to realize it, Dorian managed to hit Ivan in the face twice with his bulky guitar case as he turned around to greet Minerva, and Maeve was absorbed in a game on her phone). Adding in a sullen former drummer who still half-expected the mob to change their mind about forgiving him for the sour tech deal (he and Minerva were making great progress in their sessions about learning to live with justified paranoia) meant it was officially "crowded." The addition of a Butler meant Juliet ended up squeezed against the wall, arms folded over her chest.

"I didn't mean for you _all_ to come," sighed Minerva, but rather than shoo the group back into the hall, she reached under her desk to press a hidden switch.

The back wall slid open.

"A secret lab!" exclaimed Ray into the stunned silence. "Why don't we have one of those?"

Maeve rolled her eyes. "Where would we put it? We don't even have our own van."

Vedette sniffed, crossing the tile. Seeming to finally realize she was literally on fire, the barista waved a hand in front of her face to clear the air - all she practically accomplished was blowing the smoke in Dorian's face. "And we all know that, as much as we like Ray, he's not allowed to even know where my lab _is_."

"Do you mind watching what you're doing with that? I've got a singing voice I need to protect, thanks," said Dorian, before making a point of deliberately coughing loudly.

Still bickering, the Changelings flowed into Minerva's secret laboratory. The other pieces of technology that they had attained (through methods of varying legality) over the last few months were already waiting on the central work bench, partially assembled. It only took a minute for Maeve to add the last two components to the device, tap a couple of buttons on the interface screen, and nod in satisfaction.

"We just need to tell it exactly what to look for, now," she said, putting the device back on the workbench. "Then it needs to calibrate itself to the right resonance patterns before it can amplify the time-flux signal clearly enough to trace back to an output vortex."

Ivan opened his mouth to comment on the technobabble; Juliet stomped on his foot. "Don't," she muttered, "they do that a lot. Just let it go."

Minerva punched in the formula she'd calculated from the readings Ray had taken back in an alleyway in Dublin, and then peered at the screen. "Hm. This might take some time." She lifted her hands over the device, forming a magical sphere around it that looked like nothing so much as a large purple-hued soap bubble. A moment later, she pulled her hands away and the time stop bubble popped.

On cue, the device chimed.

"Hooray!" chirped Ray.

" _Not_ hooray," corrected Minerva, staring down at the geographical coordinates, her stomach sinking. "Holly needs to know about this."

-x-

Holly was currently arguing with Foaly. "I'm sure the booster worked, too," she told him, "but wouldn't it be better if we kept monitoring the baby? At least for another hour?" She checked the time on her helmet's screen, ran a quick mental calculation, and corrected the request: "Two hours?"

"Oh, I see what you're doing," whinnied Foaly. "You think if you stay above ground long enough, you don't have to chaperone those human diplomats to sit in on that experts panel on Changeling psychology!"

"I'd be more interested in sitting in a room full of stuffy gnomes who have no idea what they're talking about if - oh wait, there isn't anything that could make that interesting. Maybe if Fowl were there, just so I could get pictures of the ensuing fireworks. But as it stands, no. I would absolutely prefer to stay and babysit a Changeling if it means I don't have to go to that panel."

Foaly hurumphed. "Well in that case…"

The notification of an incoming call flashed on Holly's visor. "Hold that thought," she told the centaur, and switched his line off in order to take the call. "Maslov - is this an update on the project I'm not supposed to know about?"

"Holly! Good news! We know where Apollo turned up! Not sure when the time tunnel spat him out, yet - the machine's still having some - ah, I was told to call them 'technical difficulties' but it mostly looks like Maeve hitting things with a hammer and saying rude words in a bunch of different languages while Minerva and Vedette try to keep Ray from guessing what they mean."

"Dorian, focus!" Holly abandoned all pretense of keeping watch on Andre Price, already selecting the command on her wrist keyboard to open her wings. "Where did he go, then?"

"That… would be the bad news." He hummed anxiously under his breath. "You're not going to like it."

She bared her teeth. "Tell me anyways."

He told her. She didn't like it.

-x-

Despite her close involvement with the aftermath of the shuttle crash that had killed Demia Carter, Holly had never actually been inside the tunnels where the girl had died. After transporting the survivors back to Haven, she had been too involved in the relocation of LEPfoul to have any part of the technical clean-up crew. All the same, the layout of the caverns was exactly as Artemis had described - first in a coldly impersonal incident report, and later in greater detail upon recounting an especially vivid nightmare. She remembered back to that second description, midnight in their apartment two weeks after the shuttle crash, the words coming out carefully over playing cards and soothing tea.

"You'd better be alive, Mud Boy," she grumbled to herself, advancing along the stone bridge. "If not, I'm going to be so mad. You have no idea what kind of wrath you just signed yourself up for if you got yourself killed again."

She adjusted the filters on her helmet, waving through the options until she found the one that traced and illuminated any particles of human DNA. "He was here," she announced in a slightly more professional whisper; even with her helmet sealed and soundproof, she was all too aware of the cave's other slumbering occupants. "Alive. Look, here - and here." She looked up, peering along the stone bridge to where it curved out of sight in the distance. "There was some kind of scuffle, but he got up and ran this way."

Back in the shuttle, she heard Chix Verbil click his tongue. The sprite had been conscripted into manning the rescue vehicle on this particular mission by necessity alone; he owed Holly his life several times over, and (unfortunately for Holly) he couldn't think of anywhere better he wanted to be. Evidently, this life-and-death rescue mission struck the sprite as the perfect moment to embark on what he considered to be a much more pressing topic of conversation. "So, what are you and that human, anyways? What would you say that relationship _is_?"

Holly clenched her jaw, tuning him out as she turned to retrace Artemis's footsteps. "He was injured, look. Limping, and there's blood. Maslov mentioned in his incident report that Fowl had hurt his foot in Russia - and these are definitely his prints, you can see the extra toe." Her nose crinkled in worry, though her voice stayed steady as she hovered along the trail. Her wings moved silently, disturbing the air currents as little as possible, and she hoped with her shield she could be in and out before any trolls even noticed she was there. "Looks like Artemis was trying to run, but not very well. Typical."

"I mean, you saved my life and all that, but then you never called me again! Which I think is a bit of a mixed signal, you know? It's enough to hurt a sprite's feelings, it really is. I thought we had a connection," Chix continued, rocking back in his seat with his fingers curled loosely around the control's joystick. The elf doubted he'd heard a word she said, and continued to narrate her descent into the tunnel for the sake of the record alone.

"His strides are getting shorter, he's slowing down." Holly had reached the husk of the crashed shuttle, a forlorn wreckage. _This is where autopilot gets you, every time,_ she thought, but didn't say. Instead she traced the steps forward the last few paces - saw where Artemis had stumbled and then collapsed, a bright flash of still-crimson human blood visible to the naked eye against a jagged outcropping of metal - a second set of footprints coming from the left -

"So he must have gotten back up eventually, but…." Her helmet pinged with an incoming call; Holly answered it with a twist of her fingers, heart sinking.

"Holly," said Minerva quickly on the other side of the line. "The time calibration is finished, I can tell you when -"

"I know," Holly said, cutting the genius off before she could finish the sentence. "Spare me the technojargon, I'm here in the tunnels right now and looking at proof. His trail is still fresh."

Minerva made a sound of agreement. "Artemis didn't go back in time - he went forward. He just got here."

Holly shone her red light around the wreckage of the shuttle, illuminating a second trail of prints. Rubber-soled shoes, small ones. "Exactly. It looks like somebody else already found him, and they had their own way out."

-x-

For half a minute, Foaly thought the Mud Man striding with false arrogance into his Ops Booth was simply a lost member of the human delegation that had been wandering around Police Plaza in a daze ever since they'd returned from their impromptu visit to the LEPfoul office. Humans did that when they felt out of place, made themselves puffy and obnoxiously self-important. Then he realized that the DNA-coded system wouldn't open for just anybody, spun around in his modified swivel chair, and realized he recognized this particular human despite the unusually dishevelled nature of the man's appearance.

"Artemis!" The centaur threw up both hands, leaped off his chair, and attacked the human with an impulsive hug. It was an awkward moment for them both, but by the time he remembered his professionalism he was already committed to it. After a few seconds, he let go and trotted backwards. "Where have you been? How are you here? You look awful, by the way."

Artemis coughed, adjusting his tattered tie self-consciously. "Yes. I am aware of that. I need your help."

"You don't get out of this that easily! What happened to you?"

Artemis's face hardened. "After. I need to see the control codes for the prison where you're holding Becquerel Jones."

Foaly rolled his eyes at the Mud Boy's orders, but returned to his chair and rolled back in front of the computer to type. "Control codes," he muttered, and flourished a hand. "What about them? Jones isn't escaping, is he?"

He made space for Artemis to stand beside him. While the human bent forward to study the codes, Foaly launched into a lecture: "We've been worried sick, you know. Do you have any idea how many dedicated servers I have looking for you? Three! Three dedicated servers! I'm not even supposed to have one! Do you have any idea what kind of strain that's put on my budget? How did you even get all the way down here without setting off some sort of alarm? Oh - look at that, I just got a ping. Apparently you just walked into my Ops Booth. How about that."

Artemis had turned to stare at him, apparently disconcerted. Foaly whinnied in annoyance. "Yes, we care about you, don't look at me like that and don't make me say it again. For some reason, we were worried! I'm not sure how that happened, and I'll let you know if anybody ever figures it out. Okay? Plot twist: you have friends! Can we have this emotional breakthrough and move on? What do you need to check the prison control codes for, anyway?"

It looked as though Artemis was finally about to tell him just what was going on - and then an incoming call interrupted them.

"Oh look, it's Holly," said Foaly, gesturing to the elf's profile that had popped up on the corner of the screen. "She's out there searching for you right now, you know. So you'd better apologize as soon as you see her again. Just saying." He put his headset on and answered the call. "Guess what, Holly?"

Holly didn't have time for guessing games. "I'm in the troll tunnel and it doesn't look good," she said, talking too fast for Foaly to get a word in. "Artemis didn't go to the past - he went _forward,_ and probably only got here a day or two ago. He's injured and disoriented, Foaly, wherever he is. And another human's tracked him down already, which could be bad. The good news is they're not in here anymore, I think they did both walk out, which means he's probably alive and your tech should be able to pick him up now. Start running your scans again and let me know if anything -"

"Uh, Holly," Foaly tried to interrupt, rolling his chair further from the human and turning his back for privacy. "Funny you should mention -"

"I'm serious, Foaly! Tell me right away if he shows up. And tag him with silver to keep him anchored in the time stream. He might be unstable."

Foaly coughed. "Silver. Right. I'm sure I've got some…" He turned back to his desk and trailed off. "D'arvit."

Artemis Fowl the Second had vanished again. And this time, he'd left a present: The flashing alarms on Foaly's screen as the prison systems registered a prisoner's escape.

Not just any prisoner, either: According to these alarms, Becquerel Jones had escaped from his cell precisely four minutes and forty-four seconds ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins our third and final season! Posted on The Foul Team's third anniversary, no less! WHAT. Don't mind us, we're just freaking out a little over the fact that our silly little story about Changelings and interns has been going for three whole years. - Winged
> 
> (This has been hanging over our heads for three years. Why. Even knowing that we did have a nearly year-long hiatus in the middle of that doesn't help. It's about time we wrapped this thing up already, yeah? - Freud)
> 
> (Shhhh. We don't talk about that hiatus. - Winged)
> 
> So. Season Three: time to wrap this thing up already! On the surface it'll look a lot like the previous two - seven episodes with some webisodes to round things out, a whole lot of (former) interns, random acts of Lucia, and even more Changelings. Add in more magic, more time travel, interspecies politics, and Warren Freyne's ongoing quest to actually obtain a decent cup of coffee (thwarted now by both Minerva and MoriarTEA), and there you go! It'll be a bit less episodic in nature than the first two, with a larger focus on bringing plot arcs (and people) together to finally finish this story.
> 
> (Nearly 30 named characters in this episode, yikes! How did that even happen? - Freud)
> 
> And you'll have to wait and see whether we finally answer the biggest question of all: what on (or under) earth is that bird's problem!?
> 
> By the way, we also have a joint freudwithwings tumblr now! Same name on the tin, can't miss it. We'll be talking about more general housekeeping stuff over there from now on, if you're interested. Maybe that will keep the length of these A/Ns down? - Winged
> 
> (Too late for this one, though. - Freud)


	20. On The Bright Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 3.02: In which our intrepid hero hears the fable of the three brave adventurers, participates in an unlikely prison escape, and receives some percussive maintenance.

_Once upon a time, three brave adventurers embarked on a voyage to the land of Faerie to find their true selves. The eldest had been there many times before; he knew the Faerie tongue and the source of all magic and the secret paths between worlds. The second had only seen the Fae from afar, but he had long studied the clues to their existence in order to find a piece of magic to save his sister. The youngest had grown up with stories of the Fae and was gifted with the ability to see magic in all things; she had once known more, before a trickster elf stole her memories and hid them deep beneath the ground._

_The adventurers travelled in a clever ship designed to navigate the secret paths straight to the doorstep of Faerie itself. Having been in such a craft before, the eldest advised his companions to allow the ship's magic to work as designed. But the second traveller was less trusting of the Fae, being aware of the tricks their people had played on the youngest, and fought for control. The dark energies of their bickering confused the ship and, with a great motion and many loud noises, it careened off the safe path to crash in the dark tunnels of the trolls._

_The troll tunnels were the most dangerous of all the lands surrounding Faerie, and the adventurers were all very frightened in their own ways. Armed only with a feeble light-wand, they ventured from the wreck of their ship in search of a way back to the safe paths. After a long and fearful trek, they came upon a great stone bridge - and there, on the other side, was freedom!_

_But, of course, the stone bridge was guarded by the most fearsome of all the trolls._

_The eldest knew the Faerie tongue and the source of all magic and the secret paths between worlds, but he took one look at the troll guarding the bridge and urged the others to turn away. "We must leave," he advised them, "It's safer to go back. Surely one of the faeries will see the wreckage of our ship and come to investigate!"_

_The second had long studied the Fae from afar, and was aware of the tricks they could play. "Perhaps the faeries crashed our ship," he suggested, "We will receive no help from them. Let us search for another path - this bridge can not be the only way to escape the troll tunnels."_

_But the youngest had grown up with fairy tales in her head and the ability to see magic in all things, and thus it was she who saw the magic of the troll bridge and understood how the travellers might cross. She explained to them her plan and gave a kiss for luck before setting off on her very own._

_Travelling through the dark without her companions was even scarier than before. But the youngest knew that in fairy tales and adventures, one had to be brave. So she followed the path up to the top of the stone bridge where, sure enough, the most fearsome of all the trolls was waiting for her._

_The troll was even more frightening up close than she could have imagined, but the youngest stood her ground. "My," she told him, "You must be the king of the trolls."_

_Confused by her words (for most travellers who attempted to cross the bridge could do nothing but gibber in panic), the troll cocked his head to the side._

" _I haven't a chance against you," continued the youngest traveller, "For though I am small and quick, you are immense and powerful and could surely eat me in a single bite. But I promise that if you let me pass, my companions will soon follow - and they are both much larger and tastier than I."_

_The troll was uninterested in bargains, and decided that it would rather eat all three of the travellers rather than allow one to pass. It lunged for the youngest, who squeaked in alarm and rolled right underneath and out of the way and across the bridge! But though she managed to evade the troll's teeth and tusks, the girl had not escaped entirely unharmed: one claw had run down the length of her leg and stolen the boot right off her foot! Therefore when the youngest traveller attempted to walk down the far side of the bridge, her wounded leg gave out. She fell and tumbled down to the bottom of the rocky ravine whereupon she hit her head and passed out._

_It is unknown how long the youngest of the three adventurers lay at the bottom of the troll's tunnel. Indeed, she might never have woken at all but for a kindly magical canary that fended off the advances of the trolls while she slept -_

-x-

Hunched in the metal remains of a transport ship deep beneath the ground, body aching and head throbbing, Artemis finally hit breaking point. "A kindly magical canary?" he snapped. "This story makes less sense the longer you talk. You were supposed to explain where we are, who you are, and _who I am."_

Maybe it was the fact that he felt so sick he could hardly think, but he rather doubted any explanation involving _Faerie_ and _trolls_ and _magic_ could be trusted. (Although, oddly enough, it had been the kindly canary that had truly broken his suspension of disbelief.) Frustrated, Artemis clenched his hand around his whining pen, wishing he could safely turn the irritating sound off and gain some peace to think.

Equally exasperated, the girl crossed her arms. The movement of the light in her hands caused the sparkles on her tulle skirt to glitter. "That's what I'm trying to do."

"Either you're telling me a fairy tale, or you're speaking in a deliberate code and I lack the key."

"It _is_ a fairy tale, but it's also real! You and me and Becquerel - Bec - we're the three adventurers! Our ship crashed and I crossed the bridge and I think - _I think_ you two thought I was dead because you left without me. I'm not mad. I understand. It's hard to think straight when things get scary, and it's okay! But I didn't die thanks to the magical canary, who led me to safety -"

"Magical canary," Artemis repeated, rolling his eyes.

"- and it took me a while to reach the surface and find a phone and internet but then I realized pretty quickly that the fairies must have stolen Bec's memories just the way they'd once taken mine. And that meant if I showed up alive, they'd steal my memories _again_. And I really don't want anybody messing around in my head! Better to let everyone think I'm dead. It happens all the time in fairy tales: the adventurer has to fake their death and then everyone's surprised in the end when the hero turns up alive after saving the kingdom!"

Artemis buried his face in his hands. "D'arvit," he muttered. "Somehow, the more you talk, the more certain I am that you are telling the truth and this is actually happening."

Demia sighed, pursing her lips in thought. Then she took a seat on the stone beside Artemis. "Our adventure went wrong because we didn't work together. The three of us, we each have our roles to play but it can get confusing if we don't trust in each other. You're the one who knows the Faerie tongue and the paths between worlds; we should have trusted you to get us to Faerie. And Bec shouldn't have fought with you - his job was to use all his research and knowledge to bargain with the fairies."

One eye peered out from behind Artemis's hand. "Bargain for what?"

"My memories! That's all I want. Listen. I've been planning to finish our original journey. The stakes are higher now: I still don't have my memories, you're clearly not well, and now the faeries have Bec. Who knows what they're doing to him? What if they've stolen all his memories again, too? They've already taken mine and yours."

Was that why he couldn't remember anything? Had the fairies wiped his mind as well, and then dumped him in the tunnels for the trolls to finish off? The thought was unsettling, and Artemis's mouth hardened into a line.

"I've already got a plan. Plus, you should know that something else happened a few months ago." The girl bit her lip, her eyes glowing. She tipped her hands towards him. "Artemis, I have magic now!"

And sure enough, now that he was looking directly into her hands it was clear there was no obvious source of light. Instead, a glowing ball hovered over her mittens like a miniature sun, brightening and fading as she moved her hands around it. He looked up at her face again to see that she was beaming, her smile just as bright as her magical light.

"Magic," she repeated, talking quickly. "Light is just energy, and so is magic, and now it listens to me! Which has made it easier to stay hidden, for sure. There was - I think it was some kind of explosion, a few months ago? It affected a lot of us. Everybody who's different. You, Bec, and me? We're totally not the only ones!" She beamed widely. "They're calling us 'Changelings,' which is funny because I think I came up with that term? Anyways, you must have magic too, but I don't know what yours does yet. Clearly, this means our quest has a second chance!"

Artemis realized that his hand had, again, gone to the gold coin strung around his throat. He thought back to the strange lightness he had experienced before losing consciousness - the sensation of his entire being threatening to dissolve into sparks. Even though he felt more solid now, Artemis couldn't shake the feeling that something in his core had shifted. It felt - well, _blue_.

Perhaps magic was the most reasonable explanation, or maybe there was another plausible chain of events that had led him to regain consciousness alone in a darkened cavern surrounded by trolls. Either way, he desperately needed answers - the headache wasn't getting any better, and he could still feel the sparks tugging every time he closed his eyes. It was nothing like the control Demia seemed to have over the light that danced between her fingertips, and he was sure that the moment he stopped consciously trying to contain the sparks, they would swallow him whole.

_If I am now in possession of magic, something has gone very wrong with it. I need help, fast._

Demia was still talking, which Artemis was starting to realize was something she did very well. "I've been rebuilding the ship we crashed before," she said. "You found the bits of scrap that I didn't end up needing, but I'm having some problems repairing the navigational system. I'd gone back here to see if i was missing anything, and found you. Lucky, right? You showed up just in time to fix everything!"

She pulled a tablet from her pocket and passed it over. Reluctantly, he peered down at the screen. After a moment of studying the arrayed symbols, he shrugged. "Well. Of course you're having problems reassembling the code. The programming language itself isn't overly complex, but the screen is displaying the fairy's language in spirals. Interesting. That seems counter-intuitive, but I'll bet anything it's a visual cue to deliberately discourage anybody from doing exactly what we're attempting now."

Demia jumped up, beaming. "See? You can fix it!"

Artemis crossed his arms, not budging. "Naturally. Though I refuse to go anywhere with you until I know more about this plan of yours."

"We need to get Bec free, of course! I've got a - I mean, I know someone who can help - he's already belowground, and he's promised that he'll do what he can to get me closer. With your help, too, it'll be even easier. Look!" Demia lifted her other hand to smooth her skirt, fingers lightly tracing over a knot in the hem. As Artemis watched, the girl's face changed: sharper angles, longer lines. Her complexion gained a faint green tint, and her ears became pointed. Demia grinned once the transformation was complete, revealing sharp teeth.

"My friend gave me this tech - it's just a prototype, but it means I can pass myself off as a fairy. I'm short, so nobody's going to notice me in a crowd. And they won't notice the shuttle, since it was one of theirs to begin with! So we can get in. My friend will tell you more about what's happening from there, since we're going to have to change our plan a little bit now that you're here. And you can help with that, okay? We need to trust each other."

Though the pace of her speech made his exhausted head spin, Artemis realized she was right. He didn't have to be complicit in any prison break, but there was nothing to be lost by playing along up to a point. By completing Demia's shuttle repairs and accepting her help to reach the fairy's city, he could buy himself time to come up with a more concrete plan.

"One last thing," he said idly, finally beginning to tap away at the screen. "While I've forgotten absolutely everything about myself, I'm curious why you were so confident I would still understand Gnommish?"

"Well, you definitely have a bit of an accent? Also you've been swearing in it!"

He opened his mouth, stopped to think, and blinked in perplexment. "Interesting. I don't actually have a direct translation for that particular word in my mind."

"Yeah. Bec wouldn't tell me what it meant, either. But I could guess. Context?" the girl said helpfully. "Maybe you're just used to talking in Gnommish and spend a lot of time with someone who swears a lot?"

Indignantly, Artemis brushed some of the dirt from his wrinkled tie. "Do I look like that's the kind of company I keep? If there's one thing I still know about myself, it's that I limit myself to company of more refined language."

-x-

**Now**

"D'arvit, Foaly, you cowpóg!"

"Oh, good," the centaur sulked, having finally decided it was safe to unmute his earpiece. _"Cowpóg_. You've finally calmed down a little."

"Artemis broke Becquerel Jones out of prison on your watch!" Holly spat.

Foaly scuffed a hoof at the tiled floor. "They're not going to get far. I'd bet anything they're still in the building."

"Oh, you would, would you?"

"It's not like they have anywhere to escape to."

Holly grit her teeth. "Other than the recycled shuttle that's been built out of the wreck of the old one. Which funnily enough, Foaly, managed to fly right into Haven's shuttleport without a single blip in the sensors. Mind explaining to me exactly how he pulled that one off?"

Foaly nervously tapped at his keyboard, swishing his tail. He whinnied slightly under his breath.

Holly's voice lowered. "What is it?"

"I may have made a mistake. Except it wasn't so much _my_ mistake, or even a mistake at all, so much as a technical oversight in the automated system."

"What happened?"

Nervously, the centaur cleared his throat. "Well, it turns out that when a shuttle crashes so spectacularly that it doesn't leave behind any retrievable pieces to run through a formal recycling process, it doesn't actually get removed from the system. Administrative error. Which means that if, hypothetically speaking, someone were stupid enough to crawl into a troll den to retrieve enough electronic components to build a new guidance system out of the wreckage of the old one…"

The elf's jaw clenched. "The new one would already be registered in the system. So that's how they got in. This is seriously the first we've heard of this _administrative error?"_

"It's never been a problem before!" Foaly protested. "That we know of."

"You realize that this isn't even the first time we've dealt with a recycled shuttle, right?"

"I was going to say: We have a bad track record with recycled shuttles so I figure even if they do manage to hop back into it, I'll just send you to intercept them."

"'Intercept them?' Foaly, you were supposed to stall Artemis, not pat him on the head and send him on his way with a fugitive in tow!"

The centaur's tail twitched again. "He walked right through Police Plaza without notice. You said he ran into somebody else in the tunnels. Well, whoever they were, they've been doing a good job of blinding all my cameras; that's why it took so long for the sensors to register anything. I had to load a software patch to compensate for the glare; the cameras in the cell block are just rebooting now."

"You realize they'll be long gone by the time you get that tech up and running again, don't you?"

And, in a way, Holly was right. The prisoner had long since disappeared. But someone else was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the cell, staring into the camera with one raised eyebrow.

Foaly reached for the makeshift bracelet he'd thrown together out of an old wire and a handful of silver nuts and bolts. "Would you look at that. Holly, I've found Artemis. Call you back."

-x-

**44 minutes ago**

Artemis's head was still spinning by the time he and Demia disembarked from the makeshift shuttle in an unused bay of Haven's main shuttleport. The girl looked him over with concern. "Are you sure you feel okay? Because I can fetch you a barf bag if you think you're going to-"

"I'm fine," he said shortly. He let his eyes trail over the new surroundings, trying to recall if anything felt familiar. Surely, if he'd been here before…

A screech echoed through the hangar, and Artemis nearly jumped out of his skin. "What was-? D'arvit!"

A yellow blur had detached itself from the ceiling beams in order to dive bomb the new arrivals. Automatic reflexes kicked in; Artemis grabbed Demia's arm and yanked her to the ground, curling around her as a shield against the attack. The golden missile shot harmlessly through the space the girl had been occupying only seconds before, then rose dramatically into the air to come around for another attempt.

"Calm down, Artemis," said Demia, wiggling out of his grip. "It's okay! This is the kindly magical canary I told you about!"

Before Artemis could stop her, she'd risen to her feet and lifted an arm into the air. The bird screeched again, the very air seeming to shiver with the horrifying sound. There was a flurry of flapping wings, outstretched claws… and then the bird had settled comfortably on Demia's forearm.

"Ah, the bird found you. Good." A human boy stepped out of the shadows to cross the room with brisk steps. He was small, blonde, and wearing a sweater vest and dress pants combo that could best be described as business-casual.

"Eep!" Demia stiffened. "Gus?"

"In the flesh." He stopped in front of the two of them and clasped his hands behind his back. "Hello, Artemis. It's good to finally meet you."

-x-

The LEPfoul operatives were lined up and waiting to greet everyone by the time Freyne ushered the delegation inside. Gus mingled with the other humans, fairly sure that no one had noticed his earlier departure from the group in order to meet with Demia and Artemis in the shuttle hangar. It had been simple enough to slip back into the crowd as everyone entered the LEPfoul offices to stand in a crooked semi-circle, waiting for the watersprite to give his speech.

"We are s-s-so excited to work - glub - with you," he began, and launched right into describing what an excellent interspecies opportunity the upcoming collaboration would be for everyone. If this were not the LEPfoul offices, he likely would have made an excellent speech.

However, nothing could ever be that easy. Maybe it was merely that Lucia was unhappy to be left out of the introductions. Maybe it was because she thought this gathering was a precursor to another revolutionary event. Or - most likely - Lucia had just been released into the crowd by Gus. Two sentences into Caltrop's welcome talk, the canary let out a fearsome cry that made the hair rise on the back of every single diplomats' neck. Then, in a flash of yellow feathers, she attacked.

The fairies had scattered into their instinctive evasive maneuvers and the humans had been abandoned. It was the perfect opportunity. Gus ducked beneath the nearest unoccupied desk, slipped a small memory disc from his pocket, and jammed it into clustered terminal port pressed up against the wall. For a moment he wondered if the pilfered tech would take; he'd built the disc based on fairy schematics passed on by his hacker friends close to a year ago.

"F-fast reflexes," said a voice right beside him. Gus swivelled and found himself face to face with one of those same hacker friends. Still, couldn't trust him right away.

The human nodded unperturbed, as if ducking for cover was only natural. "My name's Augustus Montgomery, by the way," he said, holding his hand out in a self-assured manner. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other." He paused, before adding, "Well, I know your team has already seen a lot of me. Thank you for the surveillance. I really appreciate it."

The water sprite gulped, stammering.

Gus rolled his eyes, slipping into the mesmer. "Move to that desk over there, I'm feeling crowded."

Caltrop went.

With no further deliberation, Gus retrieved the disc - now glowing a content shade of green - from the wall port and (his movements mostly obscured in the chaos of the room) let himself out of the LEPfoul office.

-x-

**Now**

When Foaly arrived at the cell, Artemis was still seated in a meditative pose in the midst of Bec's dislodged furniture. The human's own dishevelled appearance only served to strengthen the impression that the room had been subject to an extremely localized hurricane.

Warily, Foaly folded his arms. "So, did your criminal friends leave you behind? Or am I about to get jumped?"

Artemis raised his head. "Actually," he said, "They departed immediately after snapping me out of the mesmer."

"A likely story," retorted Foaly, though a twitch of his tail conveyed his uncertainty. It really _was_ a likely story for why Artemis Fowl would suddenly turn on the LEP. If someone had been waiting to catch him as he fell out of the time vortex, then -

With a start, Foaly remembered the bundle of silver in his hands. "Hold out your arm," he said, trotting forward into the cell. He grabbed Artemis's hand before the human could react and slid the wire-and-silver bracelet onto his wrist. "There. Don't take that off."

"Silver. To anchor me to the present time, I presume?"

"You presume? What else would it-?" He broke off to peer closer at Artemis's face. His hand shot out again, this time to pull open the lid of Artemis's left eye before prodding at the eyeball.

Artemis slapped his hands away. "Ow! Why would you do that?"

"You're not wearing contacts," muttered Foaly, "And you do _look_ like you're Artemis Fowl…"

"Who else would I be?" The human scrambled to his feet. "And that's a serious question, because I have no idea. The first thing I remember is waking up in the troll tunnels with that girl. Since then I've met plenty of people who seem to know me, all of whom seem to want to use and control me - but you were the only one who was actually worried about where I was and relieved that I had returned. Hence why, upon recovering from the mesmer, I hit the alarm. You're welcome, by the way."

"Memory loss?" Foaly perked up. "That sounds more like it. Don't worry, Mud Boy, I wasn't the only one who was worried. Now, back to my Ops Booth. I'm going to run some tests, and if you're telling the truth about the _mesmer_ , you're going to tell me everything that you've been up to since you got back."

-x-

**9 minutes ago**

Once Gus had successfully shepherded the bewildered human delegates back from their ill-fated visit to the LEPfoul department headquarters, it was a simple matter for Artemis and a disguised Demia to mingle with the group on their way into Police Plaza. Only Freyne paid a moment's attention to the newest addition to the group, blinking uncertainly at Artemis.

"He looks-?" he began, before Gus stepped into his line of vision.

" _You do not need to pay attention to him."_

"I… I don't need to pay attention to him," Freyne decided, and led everyone through the main doors without further questions.

"See? Simple," Gus whispered to Demia, a smug smile crossing his face. "And I've got the plans, as promised. Now we know exactly where we need to go." He held up his phone, swiping the screen to reveal the floorplan images downloaded from the LEPfoul servers.

She beamed, peering at the screen. "That's perfect! So… that hallway there? Quick! No one's looking!" And before Gus could warn her to be careful, she'd darted away from the group and into the shadow of a doorway across the room.

"Alright, Artemis," sighed Gus, "I guess this is the part where we follow Demia. Just don't be obvious about leaving the group, got it?"

"Don't be obvious," repeated Artemis. "Got it."

The two of them peeled off from the milling herd of humans to join Demia across the room, where she was inspecting a panel on the wall beside the security door. "It should just let you in, I think?" she told Artemis. "If you just put your hand to the scanner?"

Artemis did so. Sure enough, the light above the panel turned green and the door clicked as it unlocked.

"Excellent," said Gus, pulling the door open with a flourish. "After you."

From there, it was simple work to make their way through the halls towards the wing of holding cells where Bec was being held. Demia used her magic to distort any cameras they passed with light glares, while Artemis's security clearance gave the trio easy access through the building. Only occasionally did the trio have to pause at a junction while Gus inspected the downloaded blueprints to figure out which direction they had to turn.

Until, of course, they reached the cell block itself.

"They must not have given Artemis clearance to enter this part of the building," Demia fretted, biting her lip nervously as she watched the blinking red light over the security panel. It was the third time Artemis had tried his hand, and the third time he had been rejected.

Unperturbed, Gus turned to Artemis. "It looks like there's an option to just enter a code. Which means it's up to you, Artemis. You'll have to get the final codes for us. Don't worry, the centaur knows you; he should give them to you without too many questions." He tapped his chin in thought. "Actually, to be safe: You should use your magic. Jump ahead a few minutes to get the codes, then come right back. Got that?"

Artemis's eyes narrowed. "You realize my magic doesn't work like that? I'm fairly certain I can't just jump back and forth as I like."

"Can't you?" Gus repeated his instructions, this time layering his words with the mesmer. No sooner had he finished speaking than Artemis winked out of sight.

Demia bit her lip. "Are you sure he'll be able to come back? He's had a rough day already, and I don't think his magic has really settled properly. What if-?"

But before she could finish her thought, Artemis had reappeared. He seemed mildly dazed but otherwise unaffected by his trip through the time vortex.

"Excellent!" said Gus, clapping his hands. "You got the codes."

"I-" Artemis paused, closing his eyes to put his thoughts in order. "Yes, I got the codes."

-x-

**Now**

"You have no idea," said Artemis, interrupting his own story, "how irritating it is to know that your magic apparently works perfectly fine when _someone else_ is controlling your mind."

-x-

**6 minutes ago**

Becquerel Jones was in time out. Or, if you chose to get technical about it, "solitary confinement."

Extremely solitary, and reasonably confined. He had no idea what he'd done to deserve such treatment. After all, he'd have assumed fairy prisons would be a little bit better-equipped to handle surly, telekinetically gifted inmates. Really, he was pretty sure _he_ should be the one who was disappointed in _them_ , not the other way around.

He was currently laying on his back in the centre of his cell, juggling prison furniture with his mind. The furniture HAD been attached to the floor in the recent past with some kind of fairy-engineered polymer resin, but a moderate amount of trial and error had taught him the exact shear point of the material and how to exploit that flaw in order to cause a catastrophic cellular deformation.

Or, simply put, he'd wiggled the chair back and forth with his mind until it ripped apart from the base. Then he'd moved on and done the same to his table, and then the bed.

So the moment Becquerel heard the lock on his cell door disengage, it was an easy matter to change the direction of his chair to take a quick and easy potshot at the sudden target.

The target winked out of existence with an alarmed, "Wha-?"

The chair passed harmlessly through the air to clatter against the far wall. Bec blinked. That was new. For a moment there, he could have sworn he'd seen -

A young girl poked her head around the door frame to scan the room for any more dangers. "That was rude," she told him. "It isn't nice to throw things at your rescuers."

The table and bed landed on the floor with successive clangs. Bec gaped. "Demia!?"

She hopped forward into the cell, waving cheerfully. Behind her, Artemis flickered back into view. "-at was that for?"

This time, Bec didn't bother throwing anything. He took two steps forward, paused to gently move Demia out of the way, and punched Artemis Fowl square in the face with as much force as he could muster.

"Ow," said Artemis, raising a hand to his nose in disbelief. "That - actually didn't really hurt at all. Now, I could still be in shock, but I'm getting the impression that you're just really bad at throwing a punch."

"Practice makes perfect. I'll break your nose next time," Bec growled.

Demia slipped in between the two of them before Bec could follow through on his threat. "Punching later," she promised. "For now, it's time to go before the evil trickster elf shows up!"

She skipped out into the hall before either of her companions could argue. The two remaining Changelings watched each other warily for a moment longer.

"First off, if I did deserve that, I formally apologize," said Artemis at last with a glare. "Second, from what I've heard, you deserved worse. Shall we go, or would you rather-?"

Bec pushed past him, savoring the freedom that came from stepping out of his cell. Then he blinked, looking from Demia to the boy at her side. "Oh I see. You faked your death and then found someone to replace me. Awesome."

"What? No, Bec, this is Gus. He's helping me rescue you!"

Augustus held out his hand with a self-satisfied grin. "Good to meet you, Becquerel."

In that moment, Bec decided this new kid was probably going to be even more arrogant and annoying than Fowl. "Helping?" he asked Demia. "How?"

Gus shrugged, unconcerned. "I've been gifted with the _mesmer_. It comes in handy for an infiltration. Especially when you need to convince someone already in the security system to escort you through various locked doors." His smug look towards Artemis told Bec all he needed to know.

_Mind control?_ Okay, there was no question: Bec definitely already hated this kid more than Fowl. He'd been under the mesmer a number of times while in the custody of the LEP; the feeling of losing control of his own actions horrified Bec just as much now as it had the first time. _At least I was given control of myself while sitting in my solitary confinement cell._

He turned to Demia again. "And you're okay with this?"

Her shrug was slightly forced, her smile slightly wavering. "Can we talk about this later? We need to go."

"Fine," Bec sighed. "But no more mind control. If we don't draw a line somewhere, we're no better than they are." And to make his point, he used his telekinesis to heft his cell's chair into the air and hurl it at the back of Artemis Fowl's head.

Upon impact, Artemis blinked out of existence again.

They waited a whole thirty seconds and, when he did not come back, decided the schedule was tight enough that they'd simply have to proceed without him.

-x-

They were almost out of the building when Bec happened to glance through a one-sided window into an occupied conference room. The table was surrounded by a number of professionals, both fairy and human, all following along with a powerpoint describing the potential psychological dangers humans might face when exposed to magic.

"Oh good," said Gus. "Freyne managed to herd everyone into one place. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only person able to control that rabble."

"And you were cheating, too," Bec muttered.

"That's a terrible picture of you," said Demia, nudging Bec with a giggle. Sure enough, the images projected onto a side wall of the room featured a number of human children, including Demia and Bec.

He scowled. "That's not a picture, that's a mugshot."

"Technically still a picture. Wow, Arty looks kinda scary!"

Bec wasn't paying attention. He had pressed his nose against the glass in an attempt to see everything on the wall. "They're not counting my doctorate! I still remember working hard on that," he protested. "It's totally real on paper."

Demia patted his arm consolingly. "It's alright, they still think I'm dead. Isn't that the picture all the news stations were showing when I was a missing person? You'd think they would have figured out I'm still alive ages ago. I mean, when was the last time anyone ever actually died from a troll attack?"

Gus pulled away from the window. "Well, this would be farewell. You should have no problems in making your way out of the building from here, although I would encourage you to continue to be careful and keep your heads down." He looked Bec over critically. "Especially you."

Bec crossed his arms. "What, you're leaving? Just like that?"

"Just like that," Gus affirmed. He paused to adjust the cuffs of his sleeves, took the handle of the door, and slid into the room with such ease and confidence that no one even looked up.

_Ease, confidence, and probably his continued use of the mesmer,_ Bec thought scornfully. With barely a hesitation, he caught the door before it could swing closed.

"Oh no," gasped Demia, lunging. She was too late; Bec had already stepped into the conference room.

It took a minute for the psychologists to even notice that he had entered. Then, before they could do anything more than gape bug-eyed, Bec waved cheerfully and used his telekinesis to send papers flying everywhere.

Half a second later, a gnome rose from his chair and lifted both hands to shield his face. "Becquerel Jones. What a coincidence!"

Bec rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Tweedir."

Demia grabbed the back of Bec's shirt and tried in vain to yank him out into the hall again before he could do too much damage. The door slammed shut behind him. And then the alarms began to blare.

-x-

**4 minutes and 44 seconds ago**

Artemis lifted his hand from the alarm he'd just pulled, gritting his teeth as the piercing sounds burrowed into his already aching head. Moving carefully, he reentered the cell and took a seat in the center of the floor, raising his head to watch the camera. Demia had been using her light to trick the cameras but, now that she was gone from the room and the alarms had been activated, he'd be willing to bet _someone_ would think to check what was happening in the cell.

At this point, all he could really do was hope they were friendly.

-x-

**Now**

By the time Holly arrived at Police Plaza, the psychologists had finally managed to pry the telekinetically-sealed door open. They still had not retrieved Tweedir from the ceiling, where the gnome bobbed like a half-inflated balloon.

"The world's best and brightest," cracked Holly, peering around the room. "Aha. Chix, you deal with this. I have a Changeling to speak with."

Chix gave her a sour look. "You're asking the sprite with the former wing injury to retrieve a gnome from the ceiling?"

"Yup."

"A gnome that no one likes?"

"That would be correct."

"Ah," he sighed. "Just checking. ...So, you're really not that into me, are you?"

"Nope."

"Ah."

Deflated, Chix moved towards the knot of psychologists. Holly, meanwhile, took the opportunity to collar her Changeling quarry.

"Excuse me," he protested, struggling against her grip in vain. Unconcerned, Holly pinned him to the wall and placed her neutrino under his chin. "You try the mesmer on me, I'll shoot. Got it?"

"Fine," he scowled.

Despite herself, Holly was slightly impressed. The last time she had threatened a Changeling with her neutrino, the culprit had peed himself. Gus just looked slightly put out by the whole ordeal. "Hey Chix," she called over her shoulder. "Change of plans. Forget Tweedir, I need you to deal with this problem first. Don't make eye contact with it."

-x-

As she rounded the doorway of the Ops Booth, Holly tapped her fingers against the hilt of her Neutrino in a complicated pattern. Sitting on the edge of Foaly's swivel chair with a shock blanket draped over his shoulders, Artemis absently and automatically drummed his fingers against the fabric in an exact mimicry of the rhythm.

The elf sagged in relief, though she was struck by how tired her friend looked. "So it is him, then. Good. I'd been half-worried Ray was going to turn up in disguise again - I don't think Maslov can keep track of that kid any better than the rest of us."

"You're familiar," Artemis said, not looking up.

"Maybe you should give me a moment with him?" Holly asked, gesturing to Foaly as she stepped into the room. "If he's starting to put himself back together, I'll see what I can do to help. Go get a coffee or something. See if you can intercept Trouble before he finds out about this the hard way."

Foaly swished his tail, but reluctantly backed from the room. "Fine, whatever. Your human, your problem," he declared, letting the door slide shut behind him.

Artemis lifted his head finally, staring her down. "Your problem?" he echoed, eyebrow lifting.

"Yes. We've got a long and colorful history, and I've been running myself ragged for the last three months trying to track you down."

He self-consciously adjusted the blanket. "As far as I can tell, I'm suffering from some form of magical whiplash. All attempts at jogging my memory up to this point have involved either lecturing me like a disappointed parent, or telling me fairy tales. I'm not sure which would be worse from you, but whatever you have planned, you may as well get it over with sooner rather than later."

"Was that a challenge, Fowl?" she asked, grinning in a kind of way that suddenly made Artemis feel very nervous indeed even though he was not entirely sure why.

Following the Arctic Incident, Foaly had embarked upon a quest of his own. It had been a long and drawn-out fight with his superiors (and anybody else who happened to be unfortunate enough to wander into earshot), but the final verdict was thus: given the centaur's control over so many of the LEP's critical functions, self-monitoring equipment, and the need to maintain control even in a crisis, Foaly's Ops Booth was the only spot within Police Place that was not under twenty-four-seven video surveillance.

Holly knew this, and so she knew it was safe to step forward, grab at Artemis's tie, and pull him into a kiss.

It was not the most elegant of kisses; all the same, their lips met and it felt _right_. For once in his short second life, he did not think before he acted - instead, Artemis simply closed his eyes, tilted his head, and kissed her back. His hands hovered in the air at his sides, as though he were uncertain where he was allowed to put them; she slipped the fingers of her free hand between his own, giving his palm a light squeeze.

_Almost there, but not quite,_ Holly realized. She sent a magic pulse echoing into Artemis's system, a spark skipping between them, and felt it collide with the magic that now sat crookedly inside him. _That's the problem,_ she realized as it dissolved into a rush. The tangles in his magic smoothed. It was not quite a healing, something with his magic still felt wrong, but when combined with the kiss it was enough. Mental floodgates opened, and she felt the moment that synapses kickstarted back to life and his memories came rushing back.

Artemis gasped for air as it hit him. Holly took the hint and drew back immediately, releasing his hand and mangled tie as his eyes flew open. His face was flushed as he straightened, and he seemed to be looking right through her. "Stay seated, Arty," she warned, breathless. "Let your head adjust. Last thing we need is you passing out."

"I suppose I would never live that down," he responded automatically, blinking hard and reaching to touch his lips. His gaze came back into focus slowly, and he met her eyes when he was ready.

Holly smirked at him somewhat self-consciously, her voice oddly tender. "Welcome back, Mud Boy. Status report?"

"Holly," he breathed in a rush of recognition, pressing his mouth together as he straightened his posture and tried to regain coherency. His hand moved to the shock blanket on his shoulder, lifting it with a dazed frown. "I - I think I'm myself. My head hurts, but I don't seem to be seriously harmed." He shook the blanket with a frown. "Who gave me this one, then?"

"Foaly, I think," the elf said. "Might have thought he was helping. We can add it to Dodo's nest later, she's growing a collection of them back at the office. Your eyes - one of them's hazel again. When did that happen?"

He raised an eyebrow, still watching her through a flustered fog as he untangled himself from the blanket and set it aside. It was something of a minor miracle that his voice came out smoothly. "Depends on how you're counting. Three year's worth of room for argument either way, and it _was_ a lifetime ago. Hard to say."

She sagged in relief, leaning back against Foaly's desk and crossing her arms. "That was maybe the most annoying possible way to answer that question. Thank the gods, you're back."

"Well. I would assume my eye changed during the time jump that displaced me. In absence of memory, my cells must have simply reassembled themselves into a more familiar form upon materialization." He prodded at his stomach, still obviously discombobulated. "The extra toe's gone, and I think I've got a belly button again, too. You have no idea how disconcerting it is to go through life with no belly button."

"Beats the alternative," she quipped, and then thought about the situation for a moment. "That explanation -"

He raised an arm to gesture at the whole of his person, cutting off a protest. "I'm a time traveller who used to be dead. A literal quantum zombie, Holly. There isn't exactly a precedent for it." He paused, pensive. "This may be an odd question, but when you realized that you needed to trigger a full memory recall, did you -"

She grabbed at his arm, turning his wrist to examine the makeshift silver bracelet. "Hmm. Did I what?"

He chickened out, turning even redder and choking on his words. "...trigger a full memory recall?"

"Yes," Holly said, cupping his hand against her own. She felt oddly pleased with herself on all counts as his fingers laced effortlessly between hers, and nearly ecstatic to realize that - in a truly rare turn of events - she'd rendered him entirely speechless.

-x-

Two minutes and forty-three seconds later, upon having accepted that Trouble Kelp was nowhere to be found and returned with a mug of sub-par instant coffee to his Ops Booth, Foaly was having kittens. This was not actually a literal anatomical feat, but more a general state of mind. "What do you mean you knocked some sense into him?! Holly, _percussive maintenance_ isn't something that actually works on living - gods, don't you know what he's _been_ through! Fowl, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Artemis sighed, ignoring both the question and the hand shoved in his face. "I should apologize for earlier, but honestly, I was not in my right mind. You should have verified my mental condition before giving me access to such classified information. Shame on you, centaur."

"Yay," said Foaly with a flat huff, curling his hand back into a loose fist. "You're back. I rescind the hug."

Holly snickered. "Frond, you _hugged_ him? And here I thought you'd said you didn't miss him. If we're not careful, he'll start to think we actually like having him around."

"You said what?" Artemis cut in. "I'm wounded, Foaly. Here I was legitimately happy to see you -"

"You didn't even remember me!"

"Semantics." He winked a hazel eye at Holly, who snorted.

Foaly, sensing a losing argument, changed the subject. "Enough of the touchy-feely reunion, already. Or did we all forget we've got two Changelings loose in Haven City?"

An awkward silence followed his choice of words. Artemis cleared his throat. "I didn't mind the reunion."

Foaly choked on his carrot. "Wait, did you two - oh, of course you did. I should be concerned that you two - in _my_ booth, no less! - but. Well. I'm not even surprised. _Percussive maintenance,_ my fake inflatable rubber ass." He turned to wink at his favourite party accessory, which still hung on the wall in memory of the late Commander Root. It did not wink back, thank the gods; he'd already experienced enough metaphorical anatomical feats for one afternoon.

Holly's lip twitched. "Be nice."

"Fine. Fine! Changelings. Lower Elements. Running amok. Solution?" the centaur said firmly, trying desperately to keep any semblance of control over the conversation.

Artemis closed his eyes, checking his internal clock. An alarmingly accurate internal clock. "At this point, they will have left the Lower Elements, Foaly. Out of your jurisdiction, sorry."

"What? Why didn't you stop them?"

There were so many potential sarcastic responses to choose from that Artemis actually found he had difficulty picking the most cutting. In the end, he settled for a particularly scathing look. It got the point across just fine.

Foaly swallowed. "Sorry. Yeah. You've had a rough day, from your perspective. I mean, wow. From your point of view, this morning you were meeting Vedette de Costa in Italy and the world was totally normal, huh? How's your head feeling - any better?"

"Like a squadron of gnomes are playing crunchball inside it," he replied sourly. "But give me some time to rest and some quiet to meditate, and I should recover."

Unfortunately, he was not about to get that quiet time at any point in the near future. Echoing down the hallway came a stream of language so filthy that it sounded as though someone had let a swear toad loose in the building. Thankfully, it was not an amphibious creature who rounded the corner into the Ops Booth, but rather the Commander of the LEP.

"Ah yes," said Artemis, leaning back in his chair, "This would be the swearing I have been surrounded by."

Holly snickered. "You make it sound as though your own language is always so dignified. You realize you swear whenever you're tinkering and you think no one else can hear you, right?"

"I do not," said Artemis, affronted.

"Yes, you do. Don't worry, it's almost endearing."

Foaly groaned. "Would you two stop flirting in my Ops Booth? It's making me feel icky again."

Trouble huffed. "Would someone _please_ just tell me what has been going on? The alarms have been blaring, a prisoner has escaped, and our consultant has returned from the time vortex to flirt in Foaly's Ops Booth with my ex?"

"It's been one of those days," Artemis muttered.

Trouble raised an eyebrow. "And you are about to explain this day to me right now."

"Yeah, Mister Consultant," said Holly cheerfully, slugging Artemis in the arm. Clearly she'd taken the 'ex' comment personally. "How about you be the one to explain all this to the Commander."

It turned out that Mister Consultant did not actually have to tell Trouble about his day's events after all. By chance - or so he later claimed - the way his arm was jostled by Holly's friendly punch caused the bracelet of silver pieces to slide off his wrist and fall to the floor. Just as he opened his mouth, Artemis flickered out of sight.

"Surprise," said Holly unhappily, rummaging in her pack for more silver. "Mud Boy's got magic now. You might want to ask Foaly about the technical details."

The Commander stared, equally unhappily, at the spot where Artemis had been standing only a moment before. "He's… coming back this time, right?"

Holly shrugged. "I hope?"

Artemis poked his head into the office. "I'm gone, right? Oh, good." He stepped through the door. "I got back two minutes and seventeen seconds ago, managed to steer myself into the hallway instead of reappearing in the same room. That would have been awkward," he added, in a tone of mild understatement. "It turns out jumping backwards in time is much more logistically difficult to work around than skipping forward, but fortunately it appears to happen less frequently of its own volition. I would do more experimentation into the matter, but I don't appear to have full control over -"

"No experiments," said Holly quickly, reaching for his hand and pressing a silver coin against his palm. She glanced over at Trouble. "All due respect, I should probably just get him home. He's had a long day. Or three months. Same thing. With any luck, rest will stabilize him a bit more."

"You do that," agreed Trouble, inwardly praying that _resting_ would not turn out to be synonymous with _actually experimenting after all._ Given the look on Holly's face, he decided it was worth the risk. "I'll have Foaly debrief me."

-x-

The quiet of the apartment was paradise after the chaos of a three-month-long day. Artemis paused on the threshold, closing his eyes in relief.

"How about we _don't_ fall asleep in the doorway," said Holly gently, reaching a hand around his back to guide Artemis inside. She helped him to the couch, told him to sit still, and vanished into the kitchen. By the time she returned a minute later with a cup of water, Artemis had already passed out.

-x-

It had been a long and trying day attempting to herd human diplomats around the fairy city, and Freyne was happy to be home. That is, until he walked into the living room.

"Short, I don't want to alarm you but there's a fugitive on your couch." He leaned forward to inspect the suspect further before adding, "Don't move. Stay where you are. I'll call the police."

"I _am_ the police," said Holly, ignoring his instructions to enter the living room with her neutrino drawn. "Oh. You mean him." She lowered her weapon. "For a moment there, I almost thought we had a problem."

Freyne visibly wilted like a sad head of lettuce. "You… knew he was here?"

"No, he just walked right in and made himself at home." A pause. "About a year ago. Would you believe he actually knows all the security codes? And _added_ some?"

"I… see…" Freyne was still struggling to make sense of something. For nearly a minute he looked as though he were trying to count the legs on a centipede. And then it clicked with an almost audible _clunk._ "LEPfoul... isn't actually a department created to bring him to justice, is it?"

"What? No." If Freyne were counting the legs on the centipede, Holly had just discovered that the creature was made out of plastic and picked it up to dangle in front of his face. "It's a department made because we couldn't get rid of him. We asked him to consult on one case and he never went home. Now he lives here. Frond, have you been spelling LEPfoul wrong this entire time?"

"It's Freyne, not Frond," said the agent sulkily.

"I should hope not," mumbled Artemis from the couch, not opening his eyes. "Holly, how did Interpol get into your apartment? I thought I put up security to stop that."

Holly crossed her arms. "For some reason, no landlord in the city wanted anything to do with housing a human. Can't imagine whose fault that was."

Now his eyes flickered open, sizing the agent up. "I can rectify that and have him gone by morning." It was almost a threat.

Freyne spluttered. "Hey, I'm still standing right here! Fowl, why are you on the couch?"

"Yeah, that's a good question," echoed Holly, "Why are you on the couch? You know it smells like dwarf. Just go to bed."

"You were the one who told me to sit down here. I haven't slept in three months; you should have known I'd-"

Holly rolled her eyes. "Yeah, you're cranky, I get it. Bed. Now."

With a grumble, he rolled off the couch and out into the hall. Frustrated, Freyne flounced after him. "Is she saying what I think she's saying? Do you have an actual _bed?_ "

"I earned it, too," said Artemis, sounding more proud of himself than he really had any right to. "Oh, hello, MoriarTEA."

The dishwasher happily extended an arm in greeting.

Freyne, misinterpreting the situation yet again, leaped forward to tackle Artemis out of the way. "Noooo, it's a menace!"

-x-

Holly had just returned to the kitchen and lifted her mug of tea back to her mouth when she heard the series of catastrophic thuds in her hallway.

"Frond," she muttered, setting the cup down firmly on the saucer. "I can't even leave those two humans alone for fifteen seconds."

-x-

Picking himself up off the floor, Freyne straightened his jacket and huffed. "The dishwasher is a hazard to life and limb. I can't get near the thing without it attacking me. _Forgive me for trying to stop bloodshed in this apartment."_

"Show MoriarTEA some respect. It's a technological marvel," Artemis muttered. He hadn't attempted to move yet. "Plus, it makes the perfect cup of Earl Grey."

"I wouldn't know," grumbled Freyne. "I can't get anywhere near it."

"Intriguing. I would hypothesise that _that is because you don't live here,_ " said Artemis, finally sitting up. He clicked his fingers; a second later, MoriarTEA rolled happily to his side. Artemis opened a panel in the robot's side to reveal a secondary screen that displayed scrolling code. "It seems to be guarding my bedroom. From you."

"You have a bedroom? Not just a bed, but a whole bedroom?" asked Freyne. "Wait. There's been a spare bedroom here this entire time and Holly put me on the couch that smells like dwarf?"

The elf poked her head around the corner. "Damn right. That's exactly what I did," she announced chipperly.

Artemis glanced up, trying very hard to not look pleased. "Ah, Holly. Have you noticed anything odd about MoriarTEA?"

She wrinkled her nose. "It's a talking dishwasher that shoots lasers and spills pellets of espresso grounds all over the floor if I forget to empty the bin. You need to be more specific, Arty."

Artemis scanned the code quickly. "I mean, have you noticed it developing any kinds of preferences or habits?"

"Hard to say," Holly said. The knot of alarm in her gut, which had just been starting to relax at the comforting prospect of a familiar round of witty banter, tensed up again. "What would that mean?"

"Perhaps nothing," said Artemis, having seen the look on her face and decided to play this one cautiously. "I require more information before I propose a hypothesis?"

"That's a bad sign. Right." She began counting on her fingers. "It serves me tea just fine? All the time, actually. Stupid thing is obsessed with my stress levels. Also keeps telling me I need more sleep. Seems to hate Freyne. Come to think of it, sometimes it drops coffee grounds on the floor just at the sight of him. And it did seem sad when it found out you were gone. Moped for weeks."

Artemis blinked. "Holly, that's perfect. I didn't tell it to do any of that. I'll have to run more tests, but I think this means that it's developed an intelligence beyond its base coding." He beamed. "I made sentient life!"

"Oh god," muttered Freyne, who had been following this conversation with wide eyes and a morbid fascination.

"D'arvit," muttered Holly, pulling out her phone to text Mulch. "I think I just lost a bet."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Arty's back just in time to learn that his sentient dishwasher spite-poops. Congrats, Mud Boy - you're a dad.
> 
> Sorry for the late episode, guys. If it's any consolation, at least we resisted the urge to make a cheesy joke about somebody's elf-kissing days not being over just yet?
> 
> (...d'arvit. Does that one count?)
> 
> Anyways. We were gonna post this sooner but then time travel happened and suddenly it was 3 months later. You know how it goes.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with us! The follows and reviews on this fic really do make our day, even if we remain horrible at properly responding to them. As always, you can catch us on our Tumblr or Twitters for more behind-the-scenes freudwithwings fun! - Winged and Freud


	21. In The Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Episode 3.025: Homecoming is bittersweet, especially at three in the morning. But, like most things, it’s easier with friends.

It was 3:02am when Artemis woke up with a jolt to the sound of his back-up phone loudly buzzing (the original, of course, having been destroyed in a fireball inside a Russian safehouse). He didn't move at first. Fairy technology was incredible; his gel mattress, having sensed the physical bruising and assortment of injuries that accompanied his latest misadventure, had adjusted temperature and firmness to be as soothing as physically possible against his aching body. For a long moment the genius struggled with himself, trying to fall back asleep, but his phone glowed persistently on the bedside table and he gave in with a sigh. Artemis opened his mail application with a tap of his thumb, and immediately regretted it. An impressive 16,842 messages had managed to accumulate over the past three months of account inactivity, spread across both personal and business accounts.

Of those messages, he was dimly unsurprised to note that 113gb had come from Tweedir. Once Artemis had filtered those out and dumped them in an auxiliary folder for later - much later - browsing, he was left with 15,763 emails unread in his inbox.

Well, it was a start.

-x-

INBOX:

Master Fowl,

How relieved I was to learn at last that you have survived fate's cruel follies yet again. Truly, the world would become a much duller place if it were not for your stunning brilliance and keen wit. In your absence, I have greatly missed our cunning repartees.

You are likely eager to return to your studies. As usual, I offer myself up gladly to act as your library liaison - simply ask and I shall provide, my dear fellow. Perhaps as we resume our great partnership, you shall permit me to observe some of your newly gained magical abilities in action? Or perhaps that was too forward of me.

Your ever humble servant,

Professor Honkard D. Tweedir, K.H., W.M.M.

-x-

The crushing headache, temporarily beaten into submission by his first proper sleep in months, was starting to come back in full-force.

He skimmed down the subject lines, trying to make sense of them. Holly had kept him copied on all important LEPfoul correspondence and color-coded her memos according to their long-standing system; applying a quick tag to the script let him pull the critical messages aside to be reviewed as soon as possible. Butler, Juliet, Foaly, Minerva, Caltrop, Dodo, and Dorian Maslov had also all kept up with sending him a steady stream of articles, reports, situation breakdowns, and political dossiers. Also useful, but jumbled - personal and professional messages were mixed together, and so he moved the lot of them into a separate folder for later review. An alarming number of media requests were immediately trashed, and a series of bugged task updates from MoriarTEA's servers were placed in a quarantined folder just in case they contained anything nasty.

That accounted for about half of the inbox's contents.

-x-

INBOX:

DUDE!

YOU'RE BACK, AND THE DEPARTMENT REJOICES! LISTEN, I HEARD A RUMOR THAT YOU BUILT AN AI FRIEND FOR ME? WHEN CAN WE MEET?

SEE YOU SOOOOOOON, DUDE!

ICARUS

-x-

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

Artemis looking up from his phone with a frown.

Holly was clearly awake and pacing, kicking at each wall as she turned. Something wasn't right.

Artemis emerged from his bedroom quietly. In the living room, he could hear Freyne snoring on the couch - the Interpol agent's snores were more nasal than Mulch's familiar breathing, but not nearly as loud. After growing up in Fowl Manor, with nothing but empty space around him, sometimes it still felt claustrophobic to live in such close proximity to other people. At this time of night, though, he generally found he didn't mind it quite as much as he did during the day. In a past life he would no doubt have rejected these living conditions entirely, responding with a turned-up nose and cutting remark to even the faintest suggestion of sharing his personal space with somebody else, but his priorities had shifted over the years. _I'm happy living here_ , he realized with a pang of surprise as he navigated the darkened hallway. _I've come to think of this place as my home._

The thought felt good.

-x-

INBOX:

_[The following message is written in French and encrypted with an asymmetric key algorithm-based cypher]_

Artemis;

You really need to stop getting yourself presumed dead, as it increases my workload substantially. We'll add this to the list of things you owe me for, I suppose, though I also owe you and Holly a sincere thank you for your help with Saul. He was never in actual danger, but it means the world to me that you immediately changed your plans and came to our aid when I called.

I've enclosed my notes on the current political and diplomatic situation. You may disagree with me on some points, but there's no arguing that the world is in a precarious state.

Be careful. Call me when it's safe. We need to speak candidly.

Minerva

P.S. Beau told me Myles isn't returning his calls. Be gentle with your brother when you speak to him - he never meant for any of this to happen.

P.P.S. I have so many questions about the mechanics of your latest trip through the timestream, and more than a few theories. I'll send them as soon as it's convenient, as I look forward to arguing about them in great detail.

-x-

"Holly?" he whispered. MoriarTEA beeped at his ankles, and he rapped lightly on her door with his knuckles. "I can hear that you're awake."

The door swung open immediately. "You should be resting," she hissed, rubbing at her bloodshot eyes with the back of her hand. "Don't make me sedate you."

Artemis shook his head, realized he was clutching his phone in his hand tightly enough to make his fingers ache, and made a conscious attempt to relax his grip. "When I heard you moving around, I thought -"

"I'm fine," she said, lowering her arm. "Just a bad dream."

"Oh." His tone softened. "You had another nightmare. Anything it would help to talk about?"

"Not really." She paused; he lifted an eyebrow. After a moment, the elf relented with a scowl. "Hybras again. Must be all the time travel. _D'arvit_ , it makes my head spin."

He pressed his lips together. "I know the feeling."

"I'll bet. You still look like something a golem would have spat back out."

"Much appreciated."

"Any time," she said, and stepped back lightly from the doorway.

He took the permission to stay, moving into the room and closing the door behind him with his foot. Up until that moment, he'd managed to forget about the burn on his ankle; now it smarted, and Artemis awkwardly reached down to rub at it with his free hand while taking a quick glance around. Holly's bedroom remained something of an organized disaster area, everything in its proper place and nothing where it made sense for it to be. She didn't use the room for much, only sleeping and storing clothing, and it showed. On top of the dresser, a small box projected a dazzling array of pale constellations onto the ceiling in lieu of a proper nightlight; Artemis was oddly touched to see she'd continued to use the gift even after all the drama it had caused.

As he straightened and tucked the cleaning cloth into his pocket, Artemis spoke. "I could always offer a comprehensive psychoanalysis of your dream, in the hopes of providing some insight? Freudian, Jungian, free association...archaic human approaches to psychoanalysis do tend to crack you up."

"I'll pass," the elf said with a crinkled nose as she hopped up to perch on the edge of her desk, though her mismatched eyes were bright. "Learned my lesson last time. Your species has some messed-up ideas about how the mind works, you know that?"

Artemis grinned. "Failing that, we could play cards. I have several months of office gossip to catch up on."

"Frond help us all. Same rules as always?"

"Naturally."

In fact, their typical card games only had one rule: Holly knew which game they were playing, and Artemis did not. This was, as Holly had once phrased it, necessary not because she expected Artemis to cheat by default (even though of course he did), but because early experimentation made it clear that she would have to cheat to keep up with him. Years of killing time with other LEP recruits in bootcamp and in-between missions had given Holly an immense mental stockpile of card games to draw on. The game would continue until either Holly won, or Artemis determined all the rules - at that point, they would move on to something new.

This was a system they had come up with while he lay in Argon's clinic, recovering from the worst of his Complex symptoms; breaking old number associations by forming new ones, through the luck of the draw, had been Argon's idea. Holly had, naturally, found herself up for the challenge.

She retrieved the deck from the drawer of her desk and shuffled the cards. It was a light-deck that glowed pale green and responded to complicated flicks of her fingers, randomizing the faces of the cards approximately eight-thousand times a minute. As she tapped the surface of the deck, Artemis found his fingers drumming along against his leg in time.

"How have you been, Holly?" he asked quietly, searching his friend's face. "LEPfoul riding on your shoulders, and humanity knowing about the People - I can only imagine the strain you're under. It's no wonder you're not sleeping well."

The elf grit her teeth, and then forcibly exhaled. "Honestly? It's a mess, Arty. The whole thing's a disaster from start to finish, and LEPfoul is looking to me - _me,_ of all fairies! - to lead them!"

"It's because they respect you. You have an impressive track record, and they admire your ability to make difficult decisions under fire."

"Wait - you actually think LEPfoul respects me?"

He grinned. "I know they do. They may take my advice on matters of strategy, but they're _your_ team."

Her fingers stilled, setting the cards in their shuffled order. "It's ridiculous, though. This department started out to deal with a minor security leak, and now we've got interspecies peace riding on our shoulders!" After a moment she resumed movement and began to deal, frowning. "I'm just glad we got you back before the situation with Montgomery escalated even further. That could have been so much worse than it was, and we need you on our side right about now." She shuddered at the concept, peering at him over the top of the deck. "Are you alright? This is all a bit much to take in, even for you."

"I'm adjusting," he said. "Still sifting through everything to make sense of it. You should see my inbox. The stuff of nightmares, truly."

"Anything I can help with?"

Artemis saw an opening and took it. "Well. I was meaning to ask about my memories. What did it mean? The recall trigger - I mean, the kiss." He'd gone red as his complexion caught up to his brain and mouth, having blurted the question before fully processing the emotional weight of it; a blush burned at the tops of his cheekbones, but he persisted. "Because as far as I'm aware, the fact that it worked means my subconscious trusts you as much as - if not more than - I trust myself. Which implies that -"

"It means we're okay. And that I missed you," she said, the tips of her own ears flushed. "Are you going to play, or what?"

"I'll play," he said, something in the pit of his stomach feeling warm in a nice kind of way. The human followed her lead, picking up his hand of seven cards and fanning them out before him. The cards felt good against his cool fingers, like they'd been laying out in the sun, and they glowed comfortingly. "While we're on the topic, apologies if I created an awkward situation between you and the Commander."

She snorted "Ha! Trouble didn't actually mean it. Stressed and running his mouth. He knows it's none of his business." She hummed under her breath, contemplating her cards. "Wouldn't be surprised if he's actually made a bet on how this will turn out."

Artemis blinked. "A betting pool has already sprung up on the matter?"

"Mulch and No1 have had one going for years. Thought you knew about it!" she said, choosing a card to lay face-up on the table and trying to not laugh at the look on his face. Three of acorns - she reached for another card, adding it to her hand, and gestured for him to play. "Your turn," she said and he followed her lead, choosing to discard a four of beetles. She smirked in approval, rearranging her cards before drawing another.

-x-

INBOX:

Hey Apollo (shut up, I've decided we're friends so you get a nickname now and you just have to deal),

Glad to hear you're not dead! Would've gotten back to you sooner but I'm with some other friends and we managed to misplace Ray again. Spent ages tracking him down - kid gets himself everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It's the strangest thing, but I feel like we're responsible for him. Don't think he's got anybody else watching his back. Have you met him yet? Warning you now, he's a bit of a handful.

Anyways, as stated, glad you're not dead. You've probably already noticed that all kinds of shenanigans have gone down while you were gone, but I've attached some of the relevant bits of my journal to help you get back up to speed. Lucky you - some of my fans would literally kill for that kind of behind-the-scenes look!

Speaking of fans, tell Mulch I say hi and want to know what he thinks of the demo I floated his way. Dwarf would never tell you this but he was totally worried sick while you were gone, just FYI. As was your elf - tell her to give me a call, too, because she was kinda scary when I told her about the time travel thing. And Juliet can call me anytime, but she knows that.

Listen. I've got a question about all this stuff - you know, the magic and the fairies and the general craziness of it all. So. Here goes:

It's normal to you, right?

Fine, maybe that's a trick question, but I'd really like to sit down and chat. Like I said, I'm trying to keep together a whole group of kids like us, we're safer in a pack than we are on our own, but we got thrown in the deep end here.

You know this strange new world inside and out, and I could use some advice if you've got time.

….maybe that was a bad choice in words, given that time is pretty much what got you into this mess in the first place. If you're not up for a friendly chat, I've also been picking away at your nanowafer design; maybe we could go over that? So, I'll stop writing now. You know how to get in touch!

Take care down there!

Poka,

Dorian

-x-

"When we were trying to sort out what had happened to you, Dorian told me that he thinks the Changelings have all gotten magical abilities that match their talents. That the blast just emphasized things that were dormant."

"So now you're wondering about Hybras," Artemis surmised. "Hence the nightmare. The shot that went through time and saved your life."

Holly nodded. "It doesn't make any difference now, but if this is something that's always been -"

"I worked out how to escape a time stop, too," he interrupted, playing his hand. "It's all just physics."

"You never should have been able to hit that shot, though. Remember, I've been taking you for target practice. You're terrible at it. And when Opal destroyed a potential timeline, we got an entire Techno Crash out of the deal. Here, though? Nothing."

"Limbo was already in flux, Holly. And maybe I've always been skilled at navigating paradoxes, so that was the trait that became amplified. Would that set you at ease?"

She snorted. "Mud Boy, I want you to think long and hard about what you just asked and the implications that has for the world."

Artemis lifted an eyebrow. "Believe me, I have. Anyways, it's a moot point if I can't control my time-traveling. A gift like this is worse than useless if one lacks the ability to steer. If I didn't know better, I'd imagine my system were punishing me for having stolen magic in the first place - as though melting my mind weren't enough, now any future magic layered on top of that crooked foundation simply won't behave itself."

She shook her head. "No talking like that. We'll get you figured out, Arty. I promise."

"Best of luck to you," he deadpanned. "I've had psychologists attempting to do that since I was six."

"Well, there's the problem," she shot back, setting another card down on the discard heap.

-x-

INBOX

Fowl;

I totally just lost a bet, thought you'd gone back in time or something crazy but apparently _forward_ isn't good enough to get the money, thanks a lot. Haven't been in the office much, H has me working cases on the street most of the time which is awesome. Got in a fight with a goblin the other day and it was the COOLEST!

But H's asked me to send you a whole mess of stuff from the LEPfoul servers. Dunno why she asked me instead of shrimpy, but it's attached. Job done.

Sass out!

-x-

"I win," Artemis declared, laying his hand down face-up on the desk. By now the dawnlights were starting to glow warmly at the edge of the city, causing a band of light to spread over the buildings and alleys of Haven in a carefully-controlled imitation of a sunrise. The golden glow was creeping in through the bedroom window and crossing the floor, drowning out the stars splattered over the walls and ceiling. Nearly time for another day to begin.

Holly swore cheerfully. "New game next time. I'll have to get used to you looking at me through my eye again, it's throwing off my read on your tells."

"I don't have tells," he replied primly.

"Keep thinking that, Arty." She winked.

"I've been thinking about the eye thing, actually. Attempting to make more sense of it. You know that silver is the best, but all precious metals do act as timestream anchors to an extent, having come from the earth." He touched the gold coin around his throat, lifting it to show Holly. "I wouldn't be surprised if this were the reason I did eventually rematerialize, pulling me back. And because it has close emotional ties with the person I used to be, when it dragged me back into the world, my body shifted accordingly. Hence the eye - my atoms remembered that you are part of me, and went back to the way they'd been."

She crinkled her nose, though her tone came out warm. "Careful, Mud Boy. You sound like you're getting sentimental on me, gods forbid."

"You have my full apologies, then." Artemis reached for her cards, plucking them from her hand. Their fingers brushed together; he paused before drawing his arm back and cutting the cards into the deck. "There are so many questions in this universe that it will be impossible to answer, please allow me this one tidy explanation."

"Fine, fine." Holly hopped down from the desk, stretching her arms out and cracking her lower back. "We'll have to send Montgomery aboveground today. Which means I'll be the one taking a release statement from that slimy little wad of gnome phlegm."

"Something with him wasn't right. I wasn't lucid enough to put a finger on it, but the way he and Carter spoke to each other - we're missing a piece of the puzzle."

Holly pulled a face. "I already tried to get an exception granted, but the Council wants him gone to avoid a PR fiasco. And you already broke one Changeling out of prison this week, you've met your quota. I hate it, but he has to go back to the surface."

Artemis nodded. "As expected. I was researching into the situation with Becquerel, but didn't get as far as I'd have liked. You'll have to get me up to speed on the way to the office."

"Except you're not going anywhere today. You look horrible."

"I'll wear sunglasses, then. Holly, I need to be working right now. If I don't, I'll dwell on what's happened. And there was something Jones said to me before I shot him back in Dublin - he had access to information that had to come from somewhere in the department. I'm sure you've already investigated and I trust that you were thorough, but I won't be at ease until I've had a closer look, too." He grimaced. "Losing three months really does throw a crimp in one's ability to keep a finger on the pulse."

She sighed. "I did investigate, but Jones covered his tracks well and I had no reason to doubt anybody on our side. If he had an accomplice inside LEPfoul, which I doubt, we couldn't turn them up. If you're determined to push your luck and run around the city with your whole system in magical shock, so be it."

"In that case, I'm going to go get ready." Artemis took the cue to step back towards the door; Holly called to him as he reached for the handle.

"Hey, Arty?"

"What?"

"I'm glad you're back."

-x-

INBOX:

Artemis;

Holly told me what happened, and I'm relieved you're unhurt. I'd advise you stay put for now, as you're safest where you are. Even so, I've sent dossiers on all security threats I'm aware of. Read them, and read between the lines.

Your parents don't know what to make of any of this, and the twins just want to know that you're alive. The sooner you call home and set their minds at ease, the better. I'll feel better once we've spoken, too.

Butler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gorgeous little webisode is pretty much all Freud’s baby -- she did a majority of the writing (calling me in just to write Tweedir’s letter because apparently I will never be free of that monster). It’s a short snippet that you could almost claim to be fic of our own fic but wow if it isn’t adorable. -- Winged
> 
> I may have done the writing here but thanks go out to Winged for the much-needed beta read, and Tomas for the encouragement to get this thing up and posted! -- Freud
> 
> Hope this answers any questions that were left hanging after Artemis’s time travel fiasco of the previous two episodes. And thanks as always for your support! -- Winged


End file.
